


Faith and Trust

by PanAndProud123



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (link will be in summary), F/M, M/M, So Bryn Wayne is Bruce's twin sister, also, and there are a lot of different AU's for her, and we made her up in a Gotham discord, please keep that in mind while reading :), some of canon will be ignored
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanAndProud123/pseuds/PanAndProud123
Summary: (Read the tags first please)Bryn Wayne; Bruce Wayne's twin sister. Different in their own ways, but similar in many others. She was street-smart, sassy, and never let anyone step over her, an excellent compliment to her book-smart, shy, and rather in-spoken brother. But one day, unlike any other, she meets a man she never thought she would ever see in her life (well, maybe not never), and it changes everything.Discord Invite Link (well it's the link to the Tumblr post with that link): https://ficklefics.tumblr.com/post/637778604137267201/i-made-a-gotham-discord
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Jerome Valeska/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

Bryn was an odd girl, at times. She was as smart as her brother, but in other ways. She was described as more street-smart than book-smart for sure. While her twin brother, Bruce, was rather awkward and shy, Bryn had the confidence of a queen and was very good at communicating with others, even if she did prefer to be alone most of the time. She used her knowledge for random and unneeded things (what do you mean every girl doesn’t need a sundae machine?) and often dropped random pieces of information into conversations like a bird dropping crap on your car. And, as siblings often do, she and Bruce bickered a lot, mainly because of Bruce taking Bryn’s food without her permission (rule number 1. never take a girl’s chocolate. She will choke slam you to the floor within seconds.) and random arguments that never needed to happen but happened anyways. 

But as much as they fought, the twins took care of each other as best as they could, especially after their parents had been murdered in that alleyway. Bruce often admired Bryn’s confidence, the way she could walk into a room like she was the queen of England (Alfred’s definition, he was very much correct), and how she could beat a person twice her size, strength, and weight to a pulp in seconds. Bryn, however, commended Bruce when it came to insane amounts of knowledge and his ability to fight, given as he started much later than Bryn. 

And they definitely had some things in common. They both hated the private rich kid schools they went to, they both knew how to play piano, speak French, ballroom dance as well as waltz and tango, and they both enjoyed being friends with Jeremiah Valeska, a kid not too much unlike Bruce about their age with sharp green eyes, well-tamed hair, and poor vision resulting in glasses. They both had the infuriating ability to go hours on end without sleeping and/or eating while working (at that point Bryn, who always yelled at Bruce to sleep and eat and drink water, threw her hands in the air and gave up). 

Bruce was friends with Jeremiah first; they shared the same high-intelligence math and science classes. He took the latter to his sister once they’d started to form a nice bond. At first glance Bryn knew the kid was probably as nerdy as Bruce, and could probably be a doormat at times, but he otherwise gave off a positive vibe. Neither of them had friends (well, Bryn and Bruce were siblings), so they ended up hanging out together when they could; sharing lunch times and small breaks during the school day when they saw each other, helping each other out with homework whenever needed, things school friends do. Eventually Bryn asked Jeremiah if he wanted to head over to their place for a bit, to which the latter shrugged and said, “Sure.”

Years had passed since then. Now the three of them were 19, graduated from their rich kid prep school and Bruce and Jeremiah had been dating for three years. Bryn didn’t mind Jeremiah and Bruce being in a relationship; she’d been friends with Miah for a while, she trusted him (though she didn’t refrain from threatening to crush his skull if he broke Bruce’s heart. Family stuff, you know) not to hurt Bruce. Miah currently lived with them in Wayne Manor, having his own bedroom and lab with Bruce, and giving Bryn another constant headache when it came to having to yell at people to eat and sleep like a semi-regular person. Thankfully she had Alfred to help her, though he was definitely more gentle about it.

Bryn didn’t mind where she was in life; living with her brother and his boyfriend, single and happy, and, well, rich. Though she didn’t like shoving it in people’s faces much. Whenever she went to galas (must keep the family’s face) she was constantly asked if she had a boyfriend, and she always wanted to scream at them that no, she didn’t, so fuck off. But if Bryn was a master at anything (besides aiming with a gun, throwing grenades, defusing certain bombs, and dominating an entire room with a single glance), it was hiding her emotions and slapping on a happy smile. You learned how when half of your life was spent going to rich people shit. 

But for the most part she was happy with things. Being a single pringle wasn’t terrible. Besides, since when did a girl need a man to be happy? Anyways, Bryn was satisfied with the life she was living, and didn’t really want anything to change. But through a series of a few weeks, everything had changed.

~-~

Bryn didn’t concern herself with the villains of Gotham as much as Bruce, that was for sure. She was there if he ever needed her, of course, but only when he called. She kept up with the news as best as possible, and knew very well about Jerome Valeska, as well as his so-called “resurrection.” And she of course knew about his and Jeremiah’s relationship, and didn’t trust the clown a bit. Who would? It had only happened a few days ago, and Gotham city was running amok with crazies inspired by his latest speech. And whether it was coincidence or not, Bryn just happened to be walking through a random alleyway and ran into Jerome Valeska himself. 

He was in the shadows when he first spoke. “Well, well well,” he said with a creepy, leering voice. Bryn froze in place for a few seconds, not sure what to do. “Is that Bryn Wayne I see?”

Bryn regained her composure in a few seconds, secretly unearthing a gun that looked like it was centuries old and unusable, but was the best in the game. It slid down her sleeve with a small noise of metal rubbing against her leather jacket, but Jerome didn’t seem to have noticed. “Depends. Who’s asking?”

She whipped her head around to see Jerome Valeska, with his stapled-on face, coming out of the shadows. His smile was wide and inhuman, and in his hand was a shotgun of some sort. Bryn turned her body so her left side faced the clown, her right side concealing her gun. “Hm. You don’t know who I am?” Jerome replied, his smile never leaving his face. 

“I do. I just don’t care,” Bryn replied, her tone bored and strict at the same time. She held her ground as Jerome walked towards her somewhat slowly.

The clown scoffed, amused. He had a strange sort of allured look in his eyes, though it seemed more like a predator’s fixation on its prey other than actual attraction. “Wonder how much little Brucie will pay to have you back.” 

Bryn rolled her eyes, shoving her gun back up her sleeve and quickly stealing Jerome’s shotgun and continuing to slam Jerome’s body to the ground in a few quick movements. As his body hit the ground with a noise much like a drum, Bryn moved to straddle on his chest and keep him pinned down. “Gee, I wonder,” she replied sarcastically, slyly picking his pocket and taking another knife as well as what felt like a single-button remote. Jerome looked up at her with the same allured, predator-like gaze, this time with a bit more curiosity, not seeming to have noticed she took his pocket’s contents.

She stood up and continued to walk through the alley. “You’re not even gonna say goodbye?” she heard Jerome say. Bryn rolled her eyes and decided to wave with the remote in her hand. As she left she heard him say, “Sly little bitch,” quietly and like he was tired. Bryn smirked a bit and sharply turned a corner, heading towards the Manor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little reminder that some of canon is ignored :)

Bryn snuck into Miah and Bruce’s lab through the window since she didn’t exactly feel like going through the door. Why do that when you can climb a tree, cling onto a pipe (gutter?) for your dear life, unlock a window and open it with one hand, and then swing yourself into the room? “You missed dinner,” Bruce said, using a screwdriver on something small he held in his hand, not even looking at his sister. 

She looked at the expensive yet worn watch on her wrist. “Damn, is it that late already? Anyway, you mind taking this apart for me?” 

Bruce turned around just in time to catch the detonator Bryn threw at him. He examined it for a few seconds. “Where’d you get it?” he asked, putting down what he was working on and already starting to reduce the thing to unusable scraps of metal. 

“Found it on the floor,” Bryn replied, wiping dust off of her clothes. 

“On the floor?”

Bruce quietly huffed angrily as his sister shrugged. They both knew she was lying, but they also knew Bruce wasn’t getting the truth, either. “I’m gonna eat,” she said, leaving the room. Bruce continued to take apart the remote, ending up with a lump of metal and unusable wires in a few minutes. 

~-~

About a few days later Bryn was walking in the same alley- bad idea, of course- when she met Jerome Valeska again. That time she groaned in frustration and rolled her eyes. “What now?” she snapped. 

Jerome gave her a wide smile, holding a gun just like he was before. “Oh, nothing. Just here to ask what you did with my little remote.”

“It’s a little late to ask that,” Bryn replied coldly. “And besides, I took it apart and threw it in the trash.” 

She kept her face straight as Jerome’s smile grew wider, which was only a sign that something was going to happen. She internally sighed and carefully took out a knife of her own. “Hm. Well, let me ask you a little question.” He removed five bullets from the chamber of the gun. Bryn had to fight to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Russian Roulette? Of all things? He smiled as he pointed the gun to the side of Bryn’s head. “What’s the secret to good comedy?”

Did Bryn know the answer? Why, yes, yes she did, especially as a girl who had told many jokes and pulled many pranks in her lifetime. “Timing,” she replied calmly. Jerome looked shocked for a second, but he replaced the look with a smile and put the gun to her cheek instead. 

“And what’s courage?” 

“Grace under pressure.”

Jerome smiled even more widely and took the gun off, hesitated like he was thinking, and pointed it under her chin this time. “And… who’s the boss?”

Bryn sharply pulled Jerome down by his poorly done tie, taking the gun out of his hand at the same time. She pointed it at his head with her hand squeezing the trigger tightly and replied, with such confidence Jerome didn't dare test her, “I’m the boss."

To her surprise, Jerome started to cackle in response, with an almost curious look on his face. His laugh didn’t even end when Bryn let go of his tie and started to walk off towards Wayne Manor. But this time, Bryn didn’t entirely mind listening to echoing and quieting maniacal laughter as she left.

~-~

Bryn snuck back into Wayne Manor through the window again. This time she went into the third library on the sixth floor (there were a lot of libraries), meeting Bruce and Miah inside. They were sitting at a large table and reading a book together that seemed to be a sci-fi, Bruce placing his head on Miah's shoulder and looking like he was half falling asleep. Miah was first to notice Bryn, though, his eyes flickering up at the sound of an opening window. "Hi, Bryn," he greeted, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Bruce looked up and sleepily said, "Hey." 

Bryn climbed inside and closed the window behind her, fixing one of many rings so the dark red (and fake) gemstone on it pointed straight up. One of her many tips; rings with gemstones sticking out of it are the best weapons when punching someone. They hurt like hell and are highly efficient. "Hey, gays," she replied, examining her black painted nails. 

"How was your day?" Miah asked, continuing to read. 

Bryn paused. "Okay, I guess," she said with some uncertainty. She hesitated for a second, unsure what to do`, and then walked out of the room more quickly than she usually would. 

Bruce was awake now. His sister usually stuck around and had a light conversation with him or Miah when she came back into the house before returning to her room, but not today. Miah, noticing Bruce's sudden change in energy, kissed his forehead gently. "You okay?" he whispered, as if trying to keep the conversation to them and only them. 

Bruce shook his head a few times, like trying to shake the thought out of his head. "Yeah," he replied, deciding to put Bryn's unexpected reaction off as her having an off day. It happened; a lot, actually. He put his head back on Miah's shoulder and half-read, half-slept, and soon his worries about Bryn disappeared. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another reminder that I ignore some of canon :)  
> This chapter is also very violent in the beginning. Please be wary as you read <3  
> Also I got extremely pissed since I, long story short, lost part of this chapter that took me like an hour to write because I'm a procrastinating piece of shit so... yeah

Most of the time Jerome carried out a murderous plan or slept during the nights, like most people do, but that night was a bit different. He paced around in the alleyway between Park and 12th Street, the one where he usually ran into Bryn, almost waiting to run into her again. The first time they met was coincidence, but the second time was the exact opposite. Ever since Jerome had first met Bryn, he couldn't help but be intrigued by the girl. She had such confidence and courage, and was the first person who didn't just submit to Jerome the second he showed a fraction of danger. She knew what she was good at, and knew she could stand her ground against him, that was for sure. She was impressive, Jerome had to admit, with a smile starting to creep on his face. 

But Jerome was cut from his very interesting thought process when he felt a prickling sort of pain, like a needle, go into his neck. He was about to turn around and stab whoever it was, but soon his body went limp and his vision started to cut out. Jerome fell to the floor and completely and entirely blacked out for a few minutes; the person who attacked him must have used some sort of knock-out drug. But once he woke up, his attacker was completely and entirely gone, without even leaving a trace. He groaned in pain, his arms, legs, and back having been stabbed the most. It seemed like they weren't aiming to kill, otherwise they would have struck his neck or slit his throat. Perhaps they were just trying to get a point across. 

He, very laboriously, stood up and started thinking about what to do, just as rain was starting to fall. Was rain forecasted for that night? Well, it had been very cloudy for the past week or so. Jerome shook his head and tried to focus. He was already starting to bleed out, rain and blood combining to stick his suit and shirt to his skin. Base was rather far away, he'd die before he got there. What else was close? Hospitals for sure were a no-go; they'd send Jerome back to Arkham and probably give him the cheapest treatment that they had. If only Bryn had stumbled into the alleyway at that second, Jerome thought.

Wait. Bryn. Wayne Manor was only a minute or two away. Would they help? Jerome wasn't sure. He didn't know enough about Bryn to know if she would help him. Well, if she'd wanted him dead she would have killed him already. Right? He sucked in a breath and began to head there, not sure if it would work, but knowing he had no other option. 

~-~

Bryn walked around Wayne Manor wearing legging-like shorts and a T-shirt as she listened to the pouring rain outside, humming to herself under her breath. She was grateful that she wasn't outside at the time, and felt sorry for anyone outside in the storm. She stopped in her tracks as she heard someone knock on the front door to the Manor. Would a criminal knock on the door? She sighed and took a gun out of her pocket, cocking it as she approached the door warily.

She, however, was not expecting to see a rain-soaked and bleeding Jerome Valeska. His smile was faintly there, like he was trying to keep up his mask and was failing. He held his arm, like he was shot or stabbed there, as he said, "Didn't know... where else to go..." His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he passed out into Bryn's arms. She roughly shoved her gun into her back pocket, so she wouldn't accidentally shoot Jerome, and looked around. 

For a few seconds she wasn't sure what to do. Then she yelled, head pointed up the stairs, "Alfred!"

~-~

About three hours later, Bryn was waiting for Jerome to wake up. His wounds were mainly stab wounds, from a very short knife, it seemed, and a few bruises here and there. She and Alfred stitched him up as best as they could, and got lucky that he hadn't lost much blood. Alfred said that he was likely very close to Wayne Manor after it had happened, and rushed there as fast as possible. Bryn sighed, her body tense and her eyes focused on the sleeping clown's body. About a few seconds later Bruce walked into the room, closing the door behind him and stepping right next to where his sister stood. "Hey," Bryn muttered. 

"Hi," Bruce replied. They paused, both knowing that Bruce had something to say about the whole ordeal.

"How's Miah?" Bryn said, trying to form a slight distraction.

Bruce's eyes softened a bit. "He's doing okay. Sleeping, for now." He hesitated and continued, "We should have taken him"- he gestured to Jerome- "to a hospital. Or the police."

Bryn growled under her breath in frustration. "They wouldn't take him," she said flatly. Bruce opened his mouth to protest, but Bryn sent him such a sharp look that he dare not continue. "Besides, they don't give a shit about his life anyways."

Bruce waited for his sister to elaborate a bit. He hesitantly asked, "And... you do?" His sister shrugged and muttered something about going back to Miah under her breath, sounding like her heard wasn't really in it. Bruce waited a few seconds and patted Bryn's shoulder before leaving again, heading her words. 

Shortly after he left, Bryn sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She wasn't sure how to feel at the moment; shocked, for sure. She still wasn't sure why Jerome decided to head to Wayne Manor. Could he be plotting something? Getting information? They'd scanned him for weapons, hidden cameras, trackers, etc, and found nothing but a few knives and guns (as expected, of course). But they could never be sure of anything; they lived in Gotham. And Gotham's life mottos? Kill or be killed and expect the unexpected. And her naturally protective instinct was starting to kick in, the one that kept her and the other Wayne Manor residents somewhat safe, telling her to kick Jerome out before he hurt anyone. But the caring side of Bryn, which she oh-so-rarely showed, firmly told her protective side no. Bryn shivered a bit in the cold, wishing she'd brought a hoodie or something of the sort with her. It wasn't completely freezing, but it was a bit chilly. 

She, however, focused her attention to Jerome as he stirred, head pointing forward rather than facing the right. His eyes, dark green, almost black, popped open. It was a bit jarring for Bryn, since she was used to seeing those eyes framed with glasses and having gears turning behind them, not a sparkle of insanity surrounded by pale skin. But she stayed strong and regained her composure, waiting for Jerome to fully regain consciousness. It took him a few minutes; the pain meds probably had a bit to do with it. For a while he stared off into the distant, seeming like he wasn't even there. But when he was there, he stared straight at Bryn, looking at her like she was an angel, but also like he was confused. "You saved me," he said with confusion and awe in his voice. 

Bryn clenched her shoulders and unclenched them, trying to figure out what to do with herself. "Someone had to," she replied softly. A few seconds passed. "How are you?"

Jerome looked down for a second, then looked back up at her with a slapped-on and obviously forced smile on his face. "Just peachy, you know, for being stabbed about a million times."

"Thirty-three," Bryn corrected, arms crossed. "And you got about a hundred and a half stitches." A look of shock passed over Jerome's face, but only for a second. She noted his slightly confused and uncomfortable stature, of course, and asked, "How you feeling?"

He shrugged and hesitated. "Fine as I can feel." Pause. "It's just..." 

Bryn waited for him to continue, but he seemed to be struggling to spit the words out. "You don't have to tell me. If you don't want to." 

Jerome looked back at her with shock and even more confusion in his eyes. He shrugged and continued, "Nobody's ever done anything like this for me before."

A few moments of silence passed between them. Bryn looked somewhat like she was just slapped in the face as she tried to process everything. She'd never thought about the fact that Jerome and Jeremiah had the same childhood; they had half of the same trauma and the same pain running in them, but there was a difference. Miah was given time to heal, he was put with good friends who cared about him deeply. But Jerome had nothing. Nothing to help him heal, nobody to be by his side. She looked back at Jerome, who was looking to the side, and pulled up a random armchair next to his bed. He looked back at her again. Bryn wasn't sure what to say, so she started with, "I'm sorry," her voice barely a whisper.

He flinched, as if Bryn had clapped her arms in front of his face. For a moment, a broken but gentle and kind softness was placed between the usual insanity and the dark green irises of his eyes, but Jerome quickly hid it by looking away and throwing the blanket off of his body. "Well, thanks and all, but I should really get doing." He started to try to get up, but Bryn held him back. 

"Sit your ass back down, you have over 100 stitches, you're not going anywhere," she snapped. Jerome looked back at her and expected to see a harsh and drunken look in her dark brown eyes, but he only saw kindness and worry with a bit of frustration, caused by care. He allowed Bryn to pull him back down and cover his legs and lower torso with the blanket again, frozen in shock. Bryn looked back at him and seemed to not be sure what to say. "You should get some rest. It's late, and you got a lot of healing to do," she said, starting to stand.

Jerome unfroze, blinking and creepily smiling in return. "Will do," he replied. Bryn waved at him while walking away, and paused for a second.

She turned back to face Jerome and said sternly, "By the way... if you hurt any of them- Alfred, Bruce, Miah- I'll personally kill you myself.

Jerome shrugged. "Sure." Bryn gave him a faint smirk closed the door behind her as she stepped out of the room.

But before she left she faintly heard a small, "Thank you for everything," behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another reminder that I ignore some of canon <3  
> (These reminders will be here for every chapter so nobody comes at me in the comments saying that I'm wrong about something, I'm fully aware I will be missing out on some stuff so please bear with me)

**Day One.**

Bryn leaned against the doorframe of Jerome’s room and watched him sleep. Again. His body was exhausted from trying to heal itself, and the pain meds were an added touch, too. He laid there with messy and unbrushed hair, a black T-shirt, and black shorts that Bryn had dug out from her closet. She heard Alfred walk behind her, and stayed still as he stepped into the doorway right next to her. “I can watch him for now, Miss Bryn,” he said, a somewhat bitter tone to his voice. He respected Bryn’s opinion, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own. 

“Are you sure?” she replied, eyes never leaving Jerome. 

Alfred placed his hand on Bryn’s shoulder. She flinched a little, but stared back at him. “Of course,” Alfred replied. 

Bryn sighed and uncrossed her arms, hesitating before walking out of the doorway and into the kitchen, a solid five minute walk. She looked at the To-Do list on the fridge, Alfred’s daily schedule when absolute shit wasn’t going down in Gotham, and read the entire thing while humming under her breath. It was as Bryn expected; regular household chores and whatnot. She got to work, hoping that helping him (more than usual) would act as some sort of peace offering. 

**Day Two.**

Jerome woke up the next day. Bryn was in the lab with Bruce and Miah, looking at some of their prototypes and picking out her personal favorites, sometimes making small suggestions. They were just having a calm day, drinking coffee or tea and having the comfort of just being in the same room as each other. But it didn’t last. 

The three of them instantly glanced over at Alfred as he entered the room. Normally he knocked and then came in but not this time. He looked somewhat frantic, hair a bit disheveled (and a little bit grayer) as he spoke, “He’s awake. I thought I should let Miss Bryn know.”

For a second everybody froze in shock. They were all very much aware of the guest Bryn had let in, but hadn’t expected to have had to meet him so soon. Miah looked like he would have a heart attack. Bryn reacted first, putting the blueprint of what looked like a prototype for night goggles down on the table and regaining her composure. “Thank you, Alfred,” she said, straightening the front of her faux black leather jacket. “I’ll take care of it from here.”

She gave Bruce a glance, seemingly communicating with him with her eyes, like twins do. _I’ll take care of Miah,_ Bruce “mentally” communicated. Bryn gave him a slight nod- more like a small jerk of her head- and left the room quickly, giving Miah a final sorry glance before she left. 

Bryn was trying not to panic while she walked down the stairs. All safety measures had been taken care of before they’d even put Jerome in the room (while Bryn and Alfred were stitching him up, Bruce was making sure there was no way he could escape except for the door). Besides, with the amount of stitches the clown had, he would have busted ten the second he tried to climb out the window, which would not have been a pretty sight.

When Bryn walked into Jerome’s room she was not expecting him to be juggling a spoon that he seemingly saved from dinner, a balled up and dirty paper napkin, and a small (and probably cheap) vase that Bryn faintly remembered buying from a street vendor, for whatever reason. Something about a plan? She shook her head to focus her thoughts and started to walk to Jerome, who gracefully caught everything he was juggling, and stared back at Bryn with a wide smile. “Miss Bryn,” he said sarcastically, adding a slight British accent to his voice. He was clearly imitating Alfred. 

Bryn raised her eyebrow and glanced at her watch. It was later than she thought; how long had she, Bruce, and Jerome been in the lab for? But either way it was almost 9 PM. She looked back at Jerome, and sighed through her nose. “Jerome,” she replied calmly. “You doing okay?”

He shrugged. “No better than before,” Jerome said. 

For a good moment or two Bryn thought deeply about what to do next. As much as she pretended, she didn’t know everything. After all, she was still human. She decided to reply, “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“I’ve been sleeping for the last day and a half, isn’t that enough?” Jerome replied, fake pouting and adding a childish whine to his voice.

Bryn chuckled a little in response; her sense of humor wasn’t entirely dead. Jerome seened shocked for a bit, but he hid it with another smile. “It’s late is all I’m saying,” she replied, trying to hide a faint smile. 

Jerome dramatically sighed. He placed his things down on the floor and laid down in bed. “Night,” he said, eyes closed. 

Bryn rolled her eyes yet let out her smile. “Good night,” she replied, closing the door behind her. 

Huh. That went better than she thought it would. 

**Day Three.**

That day Bryn decided to ask Jerome about his attacker. He explained that he was given a presumed knock-out drug through a syringe, then passed out for around a few minutes. Then he woke up and found out he’d been stabbed quite a few times, and decided to go to Wayne Manor for treatment. 

Bryn listened attentively, barely even blinking, she was concentrating so hard. “And you came here because?” she asked, leaning back in her chair. 

Jerome’s cheeks flushed, his expression suddenly turning from loud and playful to bashful and shy. “Well, I was closest to here. After it happened,” he argued. 

“Why, may I ask?” Bryn replied, not entirely having expected that answer, but deciding to go along with it anyways. She smirked as Jerome struggled to come up with an answer. 

He blurted clearly not knowing what he was going to say, “I was… going to kill someone.”

Bryn only smirked knowingly. She allowed her expression to go strict and stony, like she did when she was concentrating, and started an attempt to piece together the clues. “So from what we know...it was either someone who's scared of you but wants you dead, someone didn’t want you to know their identity, or someone who was just stupid and mixed up a knockout drug with poison.”

“Then why use a knife?” Jerome interjected. “Why drive the point further?”

“Everyone needs to have a back-up plan,” Bryn replied knowingly. She sighed through her nose and started to fiddle with a black gold ring on her middle finger that had a large fake red gemstone jutting out of it. Pro tip: excellent weapon. And the red and black hide the blood stains. “But who, though?” she continued. 

Jerome shrugged. “Dunno. Lots of people want me dead; it could have been anyone.”

Bryn took another moment to think. “Not the police,” she decided. “They’d group up to kill you. And they wouldn’t do it like that. Also, they’d probably announce it on TV.” She looked back up at Jerome. “You got any enemies?” 

The man scoffed. “Of course I got enemies.” He sighed and laid down as he continued, gazing up at Bryn with a wide smile on his face. “Best not to think about it too much. I’ll be fine. I can handle a street thug.” 

Bryn met Jerome’s eyes in return. “Maybe you can.” She sighed and stood up to pace around the room, faintly noting Jerome sit back up from the corner of her eye. “But that doesn’t mean the other citizens of Gotham can.” She sighed and walked out the door, originally wanting to go talk to Bruce about it but deciding against it. Bryn walked up the stairs and into her room, massaging her temples in frustration.

**Day Four.**

Bryn began her day by rummaging around her closet until she found a set of juggling balls one of her distant relatives had sent her many years ago. Maybe for a birthday? She'd never used them, and thought Jerome would like them. They were brightly colored and still in their packaging, looking like new. She hummed and knocked on Jerome’s door, getting a short and quick whistle in response. 

Maybe not the usual “come in,” but she’d take it. After all, Bryn’s way of saying come in usually consisted of her yelling “go away.” She opened the door to see Jerome still laying down with his hands behind his head, eyes still closed. “Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asked, pressing her hip against the thin cardboard box. 

Jerome shrugged as best as he could and sat up quickly, like he’d had an entire can of RedBull and was ready to start working again. He first registered the box, eyes going towards it immediately. “Probably would have woken up to begin with. When I’m not exhausted I’m usually a very light sleeper,” he explained. 

Bryn nodded and threw Jerome the box. His instincts were good, seeing as he caught it rather quickly. “From an old, I dunno, second cousin removed or something of mine. I’ve had it for years, thought you would want it.” She paused and added, for comedic effect, “And I’m pretty sure Alfred wants his spoon back.” She saw that the chair placed next to Jerome’s bed hadn’t moved, and walked over to it, sitting down almost immediately. Bryn watched Jerome open the box of juggling balls like a child on Christmas Day, the same wonder and joy in his eyes, with a soft and gentle smile and look on her face. 

Instantly he got to work, juggling three balls at first and gradually working towards nine. 

While doing so, almost like he was in a trance, he told Bryn a few stories about the circus, from when he was younger. Mainly about certain acts he thought were impressive, like the trick riding, magic acts that he could never explain, almost all of the acrobat tricks he could remember. A happy and reminiscent look passed over his face while he spoke. It was a good look on him. Bryn listened intently for a long while, never tiring for a second.

**Day Five.**

They talked about other things that day. Bryn listened as Jerome leaned against the wall while sitting up, whistling loudly. She wanted to ask him about Jeremiah, but was a little cautious about the subject. Bryn wasn’t sure how ready she was for someone to talk about the murder of one of her best friends. “So. You and Miah are twins?” she decided to start on, slightly cringing under her rash directness, but pretending to be fine with what she’d said. 

But she watched as Jerome fell silent, his face shocked, but all of a sudden sad yet bitter. Like someone remembering someone they’d once loved who left them. He sighed and looked down, as if expecting Bryn to have asked him about the topic. “Yeah,” he muttered quietly; a sudden change from the loud and unpracticed whistle he once played. The clown started to pick at the skin around his nails, ripping off and tearing away random pieces. It seemed to be semi-unconscious, since soon the area started to bleed, and Jerome didn’t stop. Bryn gently placed her hand on top of Jerome’s to get him to stop. He looked up at her in surprise. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said gently. An unsure expression passed over Jerome’s face, like he wasn’t sure how to react. She waited for him to speak, but wasn’t shocked when he didn’t say anything, just went back to staring at his hands, now covered by Bryn’s. Thinking quickly Bryn asked, “Where’d you pick up juggling?”

Jerome seemed to be relieved at the change of topic. “You gotta do something with your time when you don’t have an act,” he replied

Bryn placed her hand back on her thigh. “You’re pretty good at it, you know.”

For a second Jerome didn't know how to respond, then he flushed gently and smiled creepily at Bryn in return. She gave him a faint smirk in return.

**Day Six.**

The next day Bryn looked at a few of Jerome’s wounds; the more shallow ones, that she thought could have been healed by then. She said to him, “Some of them are more or less entirely healed. But we used a dissolvable thread that should disappear in a couple of weeks to a few months, so we don’t have to take the stitches out.”

Jerome nodded, taking his arm back to his side as Bryn let it go. He examined a few of his wounds, as if making sure Bryn was telling him the truth. She watched him as he turned his arm over and gently ran a finger down the smooth skin; his attacker hadn’t seemed to target his underarms much. Bryn debated on staying and asking a few more questions about Jeremiah, but the side of her that said she should wait won. For a little while she waited for Jerome to strike up a conversation, but he looked away and said nothing. Eventually she patted his shoulder and walked out the door, closing it behind her gently. 

**Day Seven.**

Bryn walked over to Jerome’s room and knocked on the door, holding a bundle of clothing in the crook of her arm. She waited for Jerome’s signature whistle, the sign she could go in, and opened the door. “Hey,” she greeted, Jerome greeting her with a smile. She grabbed a chair in the corner and dragged it over to the side of Jerome’s bed. Bryn held out her hand, and in return Jerome gave her his arm. For a good moment Bryn examined the scabs, stitches, and wounds, and finally came to a decision. “Think… you can leave today.”

Jerome’s expression was somewhat bittersweet, a smile plastered on his face but a sad and forlorn look behind his eyes. “Well, that was quick,” he commented. “Thought I’d be here a looooot longer than that.”

“It has been seven days,” Bryn replied, letting go of Jerome’s arm. She helped him up and gave him the bundle, watching as he opened up his shirt, vest, and tie, the blood washed out of it and the knife marks in it repaired so well you’d never even known they were there. Jerome stared at Bryn, then back at his old clothing, wearing that same expression of, “why would you do this for me?” wonder on his face. “Alfred washed it out, and I sewed it back up. Thought you’d want it back,” Bryn said, not sure how to react to Jerome’s stunned silence. 

He put the suit on and gave Bryn an unsure smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice clearly trying to have some sort of bravado but failing. 

The corner of Bryn’s mouth turned upright in return. “You’re welcome,” she replied. 

Jerome walked to the window and unlatched it with ease, shocking Bryn. She’d have to tell Bruce to update his window locks. She hesitated for a second, then started to step out of the room. “Ya know…” Bryn turned back to see Jerome starting to climb out the window, ready to jump out at any second. “Villains are like stray cats. Once you feed ‘em, they keep coming back.”

He waited for Bryn to reply. She simply said, a smile picking at her lips, “I’m okay with that.” 

Jerome froze for a second, then gave Bryn a wide smile. Finally he jumped out of the window, leaving it open behind him. Bryn walked over to close the window just in time to see Jerome try to look back at her from halfway across the driveway in front of Wayne Manor. He gave her a quick grin after a moment of shock and continued to walk out. Bryn smirked for a second, then closed the window and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps <3  
> So it may be a few days before I update again, I went into this without an outline of what I really wanted to do for each chapter and I want to take some time to figure that out before I come back here.  
> Please be patient while I organize my thoughts, and I hope you have a great day <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that I ignore canon <3  
> Lmao also sorry this took a little while, I'm gonna try to write more than plan an outline but school started for me today so I may not have as much time  
> Anyways, let's continue

Bryn quietly walked into Miah and Bruce’s lab, the two tinkering with a power generator of some sort. She stopped and leaned against the doorway, the thin wood cutting into her back. She cleared her throat, both Miah and Bruce shocked at Bryn’s sudden arrival and said, “Jerome just left.”

“Good,” Bruce instantly replied. He and Miah looked at each other. Bruce cleared his throat and looked up at Bryn, straightening his back slightly. “Miah and I talked about something a few days ago and…” he paused. “We don’t want Jerome coming back into the Manor.”

To their surprise Bryn simply nodded. “Okay. I mean, that’s fair.” She stood up straight and continued, “I’m gonna go inform Alfred that our guest has left.” Bryn gave her brother and Miah another nod, then left, closing the door behind her. Neither Bruce nor Miah could believe their luck; they’d both expected more of a fight out of Bryn. Maybe she was tired. Or going insane. The latter was more likely. 

~-~

About two days later Bryn went out to the grocery store for a specific brand of chocolate, but failed to find it. If only a little shit named Bruce hadn’t eaten it all… She looked down at her watch for the time and was walking back to the Manor when she spotted a news station recording outside of a store Bryn could have sworn was for pottery. She decided to avoid them, since the paparazzi never missed a chance to get into the lives of the rich, and stealthily slid into the closest alleyway she could find. 

To her luck- good or bad, Bryn wasn’t sure- she quite literally ran into Jerome again, bumping into him while looking back to check none of the news people had spotted her. Bryn allowed a knife to slide down her sleeves and into her hand, already on-guard, but paused when she realized who it was. 

Jerome asked, coming out of his shock quickly, “You’re not even gonna say hi?” 

Bryn smirked for a second, a corner of her mouth flicking upwards, as she put her knife back. “Hey,” she greeted. “Sorry about that. You okay?”

Jerome grinned his ever-frightening grin. “Never better.”

“How are your stitches?” Bryn asked, leaning against the wall. 

Jerome leaned against the opposite wall, pulling up the sleeve of his light gray suit. Most of his wounds had healed, scabs fading away, and the dissolvable thread was starting to disappear. “Healed for the most part.” He pulled his sleeve down, smoothing it out for a second. “May I ask why you’re going through the dark and grungy alley system instead of walking through the bright and happy sidewalk?”

“There’s a news station recording; didn’t want them to start asking me any questions or anything,” Bryn replied, rolling her eyes. She tried to peek out of the alley and see if they were still there. Unfortunately they were. Bryn sighed, annoyed and frustrated. “Well, I should probably get back home soon.” She started to mentally map out her steps and began walking along a path only she could see. “See you.”

Bryn barely had time to pat Jerome’s shoulder like she usually did when he stopped her. “Want a bit of protection walking home? Pretty girl like you ain’t safe on these streets,” he asked, a slight tease (and Southern accent) to his voice, but seriousness as well.

Bryn raised an eyebrow, slightly confused and even a bit flattered at the proposal. “I can protect myself, you know,” Bryn replied with a smile insinuating she was joking. “But I can tell you want to come, so.” 

She started to walk off again. Jerome was slightly hesitant to follow, not sure if that was a yes or a no. He shook his head a few times, but with a wide grin on his face, and followed her. “Women can be so confusing,” he muttered as a joke.

“And particularly murderous,” Bryn replied without missing a beat. She cackled at her own joke, Jerome laughing along at the expected but funny comeback. After a few moments of walking, Jerome not quite used to turning sharp corners at the same time as Bryn but managing to follow along she asked, “So what do you do when you’re not stalking me?” 

Jerome instantly turned a bright pink and sputtered, “I’m not stalking you! That’s-”

Bryn scoffed, cutting him off. “Yes, you are. I’ve known for a while.” She whipped around, walking backwards. “You really think that us running into each other all the time is a coincidence?” 

Trying to redeem himself Jerome replied, “Well, I am a high believer in coincidence.” His eyes flickered to a wall coming up behind Bryn. He quickly grabbed Bryn’s wrist and yelped, “Watch out!”

Immediately Bryn stopped, then spun her head around to find her nose inches away from a wall. She turned back to Jerome. “Thanks,” she said. Her eyes flickered down to Jerome’s hand still holding onto her wrist. 

His cheeks flushed even deeper as he quickly let go, instinctively rubbing the back of his neck. Bryn smirked at him and continued walking, facing forward this time, sharply making a right turn. Jerome followed quickly afterwards, his entire face having a burning and tingling sensation. They continued to walk in silence, natural on Bryn’s part and awkward on Jerome’s. Jerome felt like he should have said something to spark a conversation, but Bryn seemed to be fine.

In all truth she was slightly shocked Jerome was being so quiet. Normally Jerome’s lips were always moving, mouth always making noise, but he was quiet as a mouse at that moment. She wasn’t expecting him to be so flustered, either. “It’s fine, you know,” she decided to say. “The whole stalking thing, eh. But I get the sentiment behind it.”

Bryn, glancing over her shoulder, saw Jerome flinch at the statement. For a second she was concerned to see if he was alright but he continued to smile. Jerome was saved from making another statement since the two of them were spat out onto the street in front of Wayne Manor, guarded by a high metal fence as always. They looked inside and then looked at each other, waiting for the other to talk first. Jerome stood awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands like he was unsure what to do with them, and looked over at Bryn like he wanted to do or say something. 

Bryn decided to pat his shoulder for a moment and give him a small smile. “Thanks for walking me back. Even if the ‘protection’ was a bit useless,” she said, a familiar tease to her tone. 

“No problem,” Jerome replied, giving Bryn an unsure smile. She took out a bobby pin and quickly picked the gate’s lock, walking inside and closing the towering gate behind her. She gave Jerome another glance and a smile through the fence, then sauntered back towards the Manor. She stealthily glanced over her shoulder for a second to see Jerome starting to hesitantly walk away. Bryn smiled faintly and continued walking towards her home.

~-~

Once inside Bryn combed a hand through her messy hair, head tipping back slightly as she tried to push through a few larger knots, and started to head up into Miah and Bruce’s lab. But they came down to her, the two of them starting to walk down the stairs with a hurried and frustrated feel to them and a look on their faces to match. Bryn sighed, already knowing what they were going to talk about. She gazed down at her watch, thinking about how she should get rid of it already, and waited for her brother and her friend to get down to her. 

Miah got to Bryn first. He fiddled with the buttons on his suit a bit, then smoothed the front out.  _ He’s nervous, _ Bryn thought, but she wasn’t sure whether it was because he expected Bryn to have a harsh response or whether he was simply nervous about talking about it in general. “Gentlemen,” Bryn said with sarcastic politeness. She gave them a nod and started going up the stairs, but of course she wasn’t getting off that easily. 

“We saw you with Jerome on the security cameras,” Bruce said sharply, just passing his sister. Bryn stopped in her tracks, eyes shutting closed in her own frustration. 

She spun around and sighed through her nose. “Okay. And?” she replied. _ If you want to fight, then we’ll fight. But it’s gonna be on your hands. _

Bruce and Miah looked at each other, as if asking who would continue the conversation. It was like they were trying to approach a wild rattlesnake and neither of them knew what to do. “We were just wondering what you were doing with… him,” Miah said, venom dripping into his voice at the end. 

For some reason Bryn felt even more frustrated at this answer. “It’s none of your business what I do.”

“We know that!” Bruce snapped. Miah flinched, but only a bit. Bryn crossed her arms as her eyes flared; the main fight was coming, she could feel it. “We just want you to be safe.”

Bryn scoffed. They wanted her to be safe? “I know how to keep myself safe, thank you very much.” She spun around on her heel and started storming up to her room, unwilling to deal with neither Bruce nor Miah’s bullshit. “And I don’t need your help in doing so.” Behind her Bruce and Miah began to start saying something, but the rushing blood in Bryn’s ears was enough to block them out. 

~-~

Bruce swore angrily under his breath; he wasn’t expecting confronting his sister to be easy, but he didn’t expect it to end up like this either. Miah put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s cheek. “I mean, at least she didn’t start throwing knives or something,” Miah tried halfheartedly. 

Alfred walked in at that moment; he probably heard Bruce’s loud voice and decided to investigate. “Is everything alright, Master Bruce?” he asked. 

Bruce quickly explained everything that had gone on; about Bryn and Jerome, and his and Miah’s concerns for her. A quick look somewhat like shock formed on Bruce’s face as he came up with an idea. “Alfred, you need to talk to Bryn about this. She won’t listen to either of us, but she’ll listen to you.”

“I agree,” Miah said. The two of them looked at Alfred for support. 

To their shock and disappointment the man shook his balding and whitening head. “While I understand your concerns- and I agree with you on the idea that Jerome Valeska should not be trusted- I believe that Miss Bryn knows what’s good for her and what isn’t. At this point in time I do not see this as something that needs immediate attention.” 

“But what if-” Bruce started. 

Alfred cut him off. “My opinion will not be swayed until I have reason for it to be. Now, if I may excuse myself, I’ve needed to clean the bathroom by the library on the sixth floor for a few days.” He gave Bruce and Miah a nod and started up the stairs. Bruce sighed, clearly frustrated, an agitated edge to his long and drawn out breath. 

Miah gently squeezed Bruce’s shoulder. “Let’s give her time to cool off,” he said quietly. The latter looked over at Miah, gave him a small kiss, and silently walked up the stairs to go to the lab. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whooooo chapter sixxxxxxxxxxx  
> Anyways another reminder canon is ignored :)

Bryn paced around her room with a clear annoyance to her footsteps, accompanied by furious muttering under her breath and occasional cursing. She was about to call Bruce a “fucking bitch” for about the tenth time- it’s hard to come up with good insults when you’re mad- when she faintly heard someone knocking on the window. Bryn froze for a second, instinctively taking a gun from her pocket, and snapped around, pointing her gun with a finger already squeezing the trigger.

She once again froze in place, not moving at first as Jerome seemed to be holding himself up on the edge of Bryn’s window. She put her gun away somewhat safely and opened the window for Jerome, who without saying another word climbed in. He gratefully sat down on Bryn’s window seat, as if satisfied to be touching the ground again. “Hey,” Bryn started, walking to the offwhite stool at the end of her four-poster bed and sitting down

“Hi,” Jerome replied, crossing his legs. “You okay?”

Bryn raised her eyebrows. “Why do you ask?” she decided to reply, wondering whether Jerome knew about the argument she and Bruce had just recently had. 

Jerome cleared his throat and changed the way he was seated slightly. “I, uh, saw you and Brucie and Jeremiah arguing. Kinda heard him- your brother- from outside. He’s a loud one.”

“Runs in our DNA, I guess,” Bryn replied, her voice a half sigh. “They were just wondering why we were together, and we just got really pissed off, I guess.” She watched as Jerome’s face quickly fell, a wide grin replaced with a guilty look. “But it’s not your fault,” Bryn added quickly. She cleared her throat and said again, making herself sound more believable, “It’s not your fault. Bruce was just really angry and I got pissed at him, and the whole thing escalated from there.” 

Jerome examined Bryn for a few moments, as if trying to determine whether she was telling the truth or lying to him to make him feel better. Bryn kept her eye contact with him, saying with her eyes,  _ I’m telling the truth.  _ And for a few moments a confident brown met an unsure green; for a few moments Bryn saw a caring and emotional side to Jerome that she hadn’t seen since the first time he’d woken up after getting all of his stitches. It was raw, deep, and it came from somewhere Bryn couldn’t quite see, but from somewhere she sure as hell could feel. Almost like how Bruce looked at Miah when they were cuddling on the couch, basking in the warm glow from a crackling and lively fire in the fireplaces. 

But it only lasted for a few moments. The emotional side of Jerome seemily shut off as he nodded, almost to himself, and got up again. He opened the window and said to Bryn, “Well, just coming to check on you. I’ll leave now, if you’re okay.” 

Bryn stood up, too, but it wasn’t like she could do anything. She unbuttoned her black trench coat, took it off, and threw it on her bed. “Thanks for coming to check on me. Even though you kinda stalked me.”

Jerome’s cheeks went bright pink at Bryn’s last comment. She smirked for a second and watched as Jerome carefully crawled out of the window and started his climb down the walls of Wayne Manor. As Bryn watched him go she realized she could have let him leave through the front door. Oh, well- Jerome was already close to the bottom, so it would have been pointless by then. Once Jerome was on the ground again he looked up at Bryn. She gave him a small smile and waved good-bye. Jerome returned Bryn’s smile with his classic spine-chilling and nearly inhuman grin, waved in response, and turned to leave. Bryn watched him go until he walked out of the gate and closed it; after looking back Jerome noticed Bryn was still looking at him. He waved at her again, Bryn doing the same. Finally Bryn closed and locked her window, drawing the light-blocking curtains and sighing. 

Surprisingly Bryn felt a bit calmer after having talked with Jerome, even though they only spoke for a few minutes, maybe five. She shrugged and looked at the time; dinner, she realized. Bryn mentally debated going down for dinner with Miah and Bruce, then decided she would wait for them to leave and then eat.

Bryn sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. Living as a Wayne was not easy, that was for sure.

~-~

The next day Bryn hesitantly walked down the stairs; she wasn’t sure if she would see Bruce or Miah, and either way wasn’t certain how they would act. She was heading towards the kitchen when the two people she was most hesitant to see walked out right in front of her. All three of them stopped in their tracks, as if frozen in place. If Bryn could she would laugh at the expression on Bruce’s face. Miah snapped out of it first, clearing his throat and nudging Bruce. The latter blinked and put on a more blank (but still readable) expression. “Bryn,” Bruce greeted. He cleared his throat as well. “I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday.”

Bryn raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “That’s your apology?” she replied, an edge to her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Bruce swallowed anxiously. “N-no.” He took a deep breath in and continued. “I shouldn’t have been as angry as I was with you.” Bruce paused, his eyes softening slightly “Bryn, you’re a very capable person, and I-” he turned to Miah- “we know that, but… please be careful.”

Miah nodded as he faced Bryn, showing his support. Bryn gave him a nod in response, forgiving him even if she was never particularly mad at him to begin with. She turned to look at Bruce again and replied, “I will.” She gave him a small nod and continued to walk into the kitchen, deciding to run a few errands for Alfred. 

~-~

About a few minutes later Bryn was walking towards the local grocery store to restock the fridge and cabinets. She certainly wasn’t expecting Bruce to apologize as quickly as he did, but as time passed, Bryn realized it was something he would do; especially if Miah was there to talk things out with him. Which was what Bryn had expected to have happened. She ran through the grocery list in her mind (but it was typed out on her phone just in case) as she walked. People zipped past her quickly, going about their lives and avoiding eye contact as much as possible. 

Bryn was reaching for her pocket when someone brushed past her roughly, Bryn swearing she could feel a slight pull at her wrist. She muttered an apology, rubbed her shoulder, then frowned and realized her watch was gone. “Shit,” Bryn said out loud, turning on her heel and trying to see if she could spot the thief- black hoodie, hood on, black jeans… after a few seconds she spotted them and quickly started running. 

Somehow the thug knew Bryn was following them, and they started running. For certain they knew what they were doing, but Bryn knew what she was doing, too. She wasn’t even that mad at losing her watch; in reality, she’d been wanting to get rid of it for a few months. But the thief would have to be turned into the GCPD regardless. Bryn followed the thief in hot pursuit, getting closer and closer by the second. But eventually they turned a sharp corner, Bryn skidding to a stop and followed them into a narrow alleyway.

She was too late, though; somehow the thief was nowhere to be seen as Bryn continually ran in the alley, which slowly got wider until they got to the streets again. Bryn swore a blue streak out loud, causing a few passerby to look at her scandalously. She knew she’d lost, and there was close to no chance of finding the thug again. Bryn took out her phone for the time, deciding to go still to the store anyways, even though a small fire was starting in her veins from the anger. 

~-~

An hour later Bryn was already back in the Manor and putting things away when a familiar ringtone piqued her attention. She put down a box of junk cereal and took her phone out of her pocket, looking at the caller ID. “Jim Gordon?” she asked aloud before answering. “Hello?”

“Bryn,” Jim greeted. “A thief was turned in to the GCPD a few minutes ago, and they confessed to stealing your watch along with quite a few other things.” 

Bryn instinctively looked down at her wrist, forgetting she’d taken off her watch. She looked up a clock for the time. “And I assume you want me to head down to the station and pick it up?” she asked politely. 

“Well, he says that he dropped it, but I’m not convinced that’s it. Either way he doesn’t have it.” Jim replied. 

Bryn leaned against the kitchen counter. “Who turned the thief in?” she asked, tone becoming more urgent. 

Jim sighed. “We’re not sure, since he won’t say. But we’re investigating as we speak.”

“He won’t say?” Bryn repeated, clearly shocked. She sighed. “I’ll be there in 20,” she replied, then hung up the phone. For a few moments Bryn stared at a random spot on the ground, wondering who turned in the thief. Wouldn’t they want credit? And how did they turn the thief in in the first place? She shook her head and decided to head to the station for answers. 

Bryn went into the garage- a solid five minute walk in itself- and threw on her motorcycle helmet, fired Miah a quick text explaining where she was going and telling him there were still groceries in the kitchen, but all the frozen stuff was put away already, and hopped onto her motorcycle. Bryn revved the engine and started to drive to the station. 

~-~

Since Bryn was on a motorcycle the ride wasn’t long; in fact, she was five minutes earlier than she said she would be. She looked at the parking lot in front of the station and frowned. Part of it seemed to be taped off, and a few forensic scientists were examining the scene. Bryn decided to park on the curb rather than try to drive around the scene. She parked, took her helmet off, and placed it under her arm, walking into the station without another moment’s hesitation.

As soon as Bryn walked inside Jim greeted her almost immediately. “Bryn,” he said. Bryn gave him a nod in return. She walked to him and they shook hands. 

Bryn started the conversation first. “So how did the person who turned the thief in turn them in if we don’t know who they actually are?”

Jim replied, “We heard something being thrown on the floor outside and decided to investigate. Someone threw a glass bottle down at the floor and then left the thief tied to a lamp pole.”

Bryn nodded. “Explains the scene in the parking lot.” She sighed and ran a hand through her long hair. “Well, good luck on the investigation. And call me if you find anything,” she asked. Jim nodded, so Bryn turned to leave. 

As the door slammed closed behind Bryn she took the watch out of her pocket again. She looked over at the investigation scene and mentally debated on stealing a shard of glass, but shook her head. Jim was a good person; he’d tell Bryn if they found anything. She walked to her motorcycle, put her helmet on, and drove back to the Manor. 

During the ride Bryn mentally tried to pinpoint who would or could have turned the thief in. And suddenly,  _ Was there a chance it could have been Jerome? _ slid into Bryn’s mind. She at first said that the idea stupid, but considered it for a second. She didn’t exactly know what Jerome did when they weren’t meeting up; maybe he just happened to have run into the thief and chose to turn him in. Bryn decided to let the idea drop. The chances were too slim for that to be a possibility. She continued driving, but was more frustrated by the second as a lack of ideas formed.

~-~

Once back at the Manor Bryn checked her phone. Miah had replied with a simple “K,” making Bryn laugh a bit. From the level of intelligence Miah had, Bryn had always expected him to respond with at least a full “Okay,” but she would settle for “K.” She walked inside and didn’t see anyone, so Bryn shrugged to herself and went into her room.

After Bryn had gone into her room she strangely found the window open, a gentle breeze flowing through her room. She walked over to it and was about to close it when she spotted a watch- her watch, cracks and all- laying on the windowsill. Curiously she picked it up and started to carefully examine it, knowing someone had to have put it there. Bryn turned it around and was just going to start fingerprint dusting it when she saw a note taped to the back. Of course, she took it off and opened it up. 

“You should really get a new watch, ya know. This one looks like it’s gonna break soon. ~XOXO Jerome,” she read under her breath. An amused exhale left Bryn’s mouth, a small smirk forming on her face. “Jerome, you crazy motherfucker,” she whispered. 

She closed the window and the curtains, put the watch to the side, and placed the note in her desk drawer. Bruce and Miah weren’t snoops, but they might have had to go into Bryn’s room for whatever reason, and if they saw the note they would freak the fuck out. Bryn sighed and said to herself, “I really need a new watch soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :)  
> So I'm gonna take a bit of a break (might not update until Feb) to work on my outline for the fanfic, should have come into this with a plan but I didn't and I'm sorry, but please bear with me and I will see you hopefully in February with a completed chapter outline and a new chapter <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that I ignore canon :)  
> Also sorry I've been gone so long! Updates may be kinda slow, I'm also writing another thing while working on this, but at least I'll be actually updating!  
> Enjoy <3

During lunch Bryn talked about her early day excitement to Bruce and Miah, who listened intently as they ate. “Who would have done it?” Bruce asked first, his oh-so familiar detective side kicking in. 

Bryn shrugged. She had decided to leave the parts about Jerome out, knowing exactly how Bruce and Miah would react. Of course she felt slightly guilty lying to the two, but for now it would have to be shoved aside. There were other matters at hand right now. “Maybe someone with a vendetta. Someone who the thief already stole from?” she suggested.

The three of them were silent, each member formulating their own idea for what had happened. “Are you okay?” Miah asked Bryn.

“I’m fine, just need a new watch now,” she replied, taking a sip of water. 

“You needed a new one anyways,” the ginger responded, a slight tease to his tone that was somehow familiar to Bryn. She froze for a second, but played it off as looking down at her shirt to see if she’d spilled any water. Miah wasn’t one to joke or tease much, but when he did, it was an uncharted territory to Bryn. She was always a little rattled with the unfamiliarity of it, but this time she was rattled for a different reason. Before that moment she hadn’t realized just how similar Jerome and Miah could sound. They had the same tease to their voice while poking fun, both having a soft backside to their tone, a reassurance that they did care and were only joking.

Bryn laughed a bit. “Yeah, I did,” she agreed. She stood up and collected her dirty dishes to put in the sink. “I’m gonna go out for a walk,” she said.

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Even after what happened?” 

His sister shrugged. “It was one thug, Bruce. I’ll be fine.” She disappeared from the dining room, obviously going into the kitchen.

Bruce sighed. Miah looked over at him and gently placed his hand over his. “Are you alright, Bruce?” he asked, dark green eyes sharp and concerned.

“I’m fine,” Bruce replied. He looked down and sighed once more. “I just… worry about her.”

Miah squeezed Bruce’s hand reassuringly. “She’ll be okay.”

Bruce looked over to the entrance of the dining room, where Bryn had just recently stood. “I hope so,” he whispered softly, as if looking over at the entrance would peak Bryn’s attention and cause her to eavesdrop.

Unbeknownst to him, Bryn had already left the Manor through the window. She gently closed it and dropped down to the gravel-y driveway right outside of her home, then started walking out. The tall black gate slammed closed behind her and instantly locked (a feature that Miah had just added a few days ago) as she stepped through. Bryn whistled faintly as she walked to the alleyway where she and Jerome had first met. She wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to go there, but nothing was going against her decision, so she went. 

Once there Bryn leaned against the wall and tilted her head back, whistling a tune that had been ingrained in her mind for weeks but frustratingly had no lyrics to accompany it. She knew that there were lyrics; she just didn’t know what they were. For a split second Bryn wondered if Jerome was there at that moment. She jumped out of her skin as a voice from the shadows said, “You know, I used to be a great whistler.” 

Bryn recognized the voice. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at the trick, but smiled faintly regardless. “Hi, Jerome,” she greeted. 

“Morning,” he greeted, coming out of the shadows, darkness emphasizing his wide grin. “Well, afternoon,” he corrected himself. 

Bryn jokingly rolled her eyes, then continued to say, “Thanks for the gift. And the help.”

They both knew she was referring to the watch and the thief’s turn-in. Jerome’s chest swelled up in pride for a second, his back straightening and a brightness, almost like fire, appeared in his eyes. He tried to play it off and press it down by shrugging and saying offhandedly, “It’s no biggie.” To obviously distract from the topic he asked, “Are you okay?”

Bryn debated on going back to the original topic, but she decided to play along for the moment. “I’m fine. Just wanted to say thanks.” She watched as Jerome fought a smile that was starting to appear on his face. She was a little shocked at how he reacted to the positive attention, never having seen this side of him before. It wasn’t a bad thing; it was even a bit cute, if Bryn was being honest. She smiled faintly and continued, this time a little more serious, “How did you run into the thief, anyways?”

Jerome shrugged, though was seemingly grateful for an excuse to ignore his emotions. “By chance, I guess,” he replied. 

Bryn raised her eyebrows, but decided that she believed Jerome. She was silent for a few seconds, not knowing how to continue the conversation. “Well, I’m gonna go back inside, then,” she decided. Giving Jerome a final smile she started walking away, saying behind her, “Thanks.”

~-~

Once Bryn was back inside of the Manor and safely in her room (safely meaning not on the verge of falling out of her window and dying) she decided to change into a black T-shirt and legging shorts. The day wasn’t even over, but for some reason she was already starting to feel tired. Perhaps the excitement of the day was catching up to her. She sat down on her window-seat and hummed under her breath. The ambient sounds of the city flowed through the room, cars driving by, the obvious sound of people talking, though they were too far away for Bryn to tell what they were saying, the occasional siren. It was like a little lullaby sung on a stormy sea, distracting to some and soothing to others. 

She wondered where Jerome was at the moment, and how he was doing. She smiled faintly upon remembering the way his eyes glowed with pride and how he tried to hide his emotions, which only ended up making them more clear. Bryn made a mental note to try and check on Jerome more often; after all, she was probably the only person he’d had positive contact with since… well, ever. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d taken such a liking to the Valeska twin, the one that Miah refused to speak of, the one she’d vowed to kill for Miah… but as time went on, Bryn was more and more sure that Jerome wouldn’t harm Miah unless he needed to.

And then there was the first time Bryn had ever met Jerome to talk about. She hadn’t killed him then; getting the remote back to Bruce was the top priority. The second time Bryn had run into Jerome her own survival was most important as well as getting out of there as fast as she could. She probably could have ended him afterwards both times, too, but again; priorities. When Jerome had popped up at Wayne Manor, clearly dying, Bryn just had to help him. She could see the vulnerability in Jerome’s eyes, the begging, the  _ pleading _ … she couldn’t just push him away.

Bryn sighed and shook her head. She glanced down at her wrist, slightly shocked when she didn’t see her watch. For a second she laughed at herself, then went over to her desk, where the watch laid, broken and worn. It was three in the afternoon. Bryn decided to go down and check on Miah and Bruce, see if they were doing anything important. Knowing the two of them, they were probably using Bruce’s old cork board that took up an entire wall in itself to try and figure out who turned the thief in. 

She put the watch in the same drawer as Jerome’s note and walked over to the lab, pausing before walking out of the door. Bryn looked back into her room for a second, smiled faintly for reasons unknown to herself, and stepped out. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, a reminder that I ignore canon :)

The next day Jim called. Bryn was just fitting on her new watch, which was the same as her old one (minus the scratches and the five years of wear), when her phone suddenly rang. She answered the call with a simple, “Hey, Jim. Anything?”

“Nothing. Whoever did this… they knew what they were doing,” the detective replied. 

Bryn decided to play along and pretend she didn’t know anything about the case, either, so she swore angrily under her breath. “Shit,” she sighed. Knowing Jim she said next, “We don’t have any leads, either. No suspects, no clues, nothing.”

On the other line Jim exhaled angrily. He sounded tired and frustrated; it was likely he was focusing very hard on the case. “Well, let us know if you find anything,” he decided to say.

“Will do,” Bryn replied. She paused. “And get some rest. You sound tired.” Jim amusedly scoffed; his way of saying “ _ thanks.” _

“Good luck,” he simply said.

Bryn sighed. “Good luck.” She hung up and felt a ball of guilt start forming in her gut. Things would be so much easier for Jim if she told him about Jerome. But Jerome trusted her not to talk; he didn’t say it, but Bryn knew he did. And what type of person would Bryn be if she turned Jerome in after he’d helped her? She looked down at her watch and sighed. “God fucking dammit. Well, this is what I get for letting a mass murder into my home, I guess,” Bryn muttered under her breath. She laughed once without humor and roughly shoved her phone into her back pocket, then shook her head and sighed.

~-~

Well, apparently part of allowing a mass murder into your home means hiding them from the police. Which Bryn was not aware of. How rude for the universe not to tell her. Bryn expected a lot of things, having lived in Gotham all her life, but she was not expecting Jerome to jump the walls of Wayne Manor and hide in the garden while around five to ten police cars zoomed by, sirens blaring and lights flashing. She was lucky to be on a balcony overlooking the garden, sipping a cup of tea (green, two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk) and reading a book when it happened. Bryn thought her eyes were tricking her when she saw someone jump over and hide behind the brick wall, but she looked again and lo and behold, it was Jerome. 

Bryn blinked and rubbed her eyes. She thought she was hallucinating- was it really that hot out?- but a third glance and there was a pale redhead with a terrible sense of fashion and a gun pressing himself against the wall. Yep, it was Jerome. Bryn listened to the fading sirens and watched as Jerome slowly relaxed, placing his hands on his knees and taking deep breaths, relief written all across his face. He was more shaken than Bryn had ever seen him. She debated on what to do; call the police? Same dilemma as yesterday, when Jim called. Ignore him? But he looked so rattled… and besides, Bryn wanted a few answers. 

She sighed and whistled sharply, trying to call over Jerome’s attention.  _ If he notices me, then I’ll help him,  _ Bryn decided. To her slight disappointment and somehow delight, Jerome froze where he stood and looked around, trying to figure out the source of the noise. Bryn laughed slightly, causing Jerome to look up at her. “Not a day goes by when you aren’t in trouble, does it?” she asked, closing her rather large and heavy book. 

Jerome looked slightly nervous and relieved at the same time. Today was just a great day for feeling two absolute opposite emotions at the same time, wasn’t it? “Morning,” Jerome greeted with a smile.

“Morning,” Bryn replied. She looked down at her watch for the time. “Afternoon, actually. So, what’s up with the… fleet of police cars that just ran by?”

Jerome replied, as if discussing what he’d just eaten for breakfast, “Well, I took a nice stroll to that pizza store on the corner of 5th Street and 7th, you know the one?”

“Leo’s?”

“Nah, that’s 6th and 10th.”

“...Jason’s?”

“Too close to the river.”

A few seconds passed. “Oh, Diggy’s?”

Jerome overdramatically clapped. “That’s the one! Bit of an odd name, but eh, who am I to judge?” He cackled at his own joke, Bryn faintly laughing in the background. “Aaaanyways, I got a lil’ too close to a copper, they called in the GCPD, started a chase, and now I’m here.”

“Hiding from the police, I assume?” Bryn asked. 

Jerome flushed ever so slightly, looking away. “Yeah,” he confessed.

Bryn giggled a bit and continued, “Come on. Just be careful not to let anyone see you. Door’s behind that big-ass pot growing poppies.” 

She gave Jerome a mocking salute and went inside of the Manor again, cutting through the library and sliding down the stairs using the railings. For a few seconds Bryn cursed herself out for being so soft. Why did she always feel like she had to help Jerome? He hurt so many people, had so much innocent blood on his hands… Bryn didn’t mind having blood on her hands, as long as it was righteous for the person she’d killed to die, but innocent blood? She would never be able to forgive herself. 

But a part of Bryn remembered the look on Jerome’s face when he first came into the Manor. He knew he was dying. He knew he needed help. He trusted Bryn to be his help. The reason why was still unknown to her, but that wasn’t important. The important thing was Bryn had Jerome’s trust, even if it was only for that moment. 

No. She didn’t have his trust then; he was desperate for help, not entirely trusting yet. There was a difference. Bryn knew that, especially as someone willing to work with someone she hated for the better cause. Maybe he never did trust her, maybe Jerome was just someone who constantly needed help and was desperate for it. But there was a certain level of trust that came from going to the same person again and again for help; wasn’t there?

That debate would have to wait for a later time. Bryn went over to the backdoor, right by the kitchen, and ushered Jerome in quickly. She didn’t know what would happen if Miah and Bruce knew that he was here, and would  _ not  _ look forward to their reaction if they found out. “Okay, we have to be quiet,” she said, voice lowered a few notches. Jerome nodded. “Follow me,” Bryn whispered. She turned around and started walking to her room- why did it have to be on the sixth floor?- being as hyper aware of any little noise around her as she could. In particular Bryn was listening for the creak of an opening or closing door, footsteps, anything. 

She held her breath as she and Jerome quickly and quietly walked to her room, trying not to make a sound. It was highly tense and slightly awkward between the two of them. Bryn could tell Jerome wanted to start a conversation, but was grateful he decided not to. Once they’d finally gotten into Bryn’s room she sighed in relief, tension starting to relieve itself from her shoulders. “Thanks,” Jerome said, his voice still hushed.

“No problem,” Bryn replied. She closed the door behind them and decided to lock it for good measure, just in case they needed extra time. 

But this seemed to offput Jerome. “May I ask why we’re locking the doors?” he asked. Bryn could tell that he was slightly nervous, but was impressed at how well he hid it.

“In case someone knocks and we need extra time to hide you,” she replied. Jerome nodded, his anxiousness decreasing slightly.

“You always have a plan,” he semi-teased, though Bryn could see him physically relaxing.

She smiled for a second and then sat down in her window seat, pulling her knees close to her chest on reflex. “Have a seat,” Bryn said to Jerome, gesturing vaguely around her room. He chose to sit down on an armchair quite close to Bryn, though she could tell he was slightly awkward and unsure of what to do. “You okay?” she asked.

Jerome shrugged. “For having run away from the police? Yeah, I guess.”

Bryn was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. The two of them froze in shock, unable to move. “Miss Bryn?” Alfred asked.

“Hide!” Bryn hissed at Jerome. He looked around and quickly hid in the bathroom, door closing behind him. Bryn looked to the door, back at the bathroom, and decided Jerome was well enough hidden. She went over to the entrance of the room and unlocked and opened the door. 

There Alfred stood, holding Bryn’s book in his arms. “Miss Bryn. You forgot your book on the balcony.” He gave her the book, which Bryn took with a muttered thank you. “It seems as though you left rather suddenly. Is everything alright?”

For some reason Bryn felt like Alfred knew what was happening, but she prayed that he didn’t and replied, “Had to go use the bathroom; guess I forgot that I was reading out there.” 

Alfred nodded, thankfully believing Bryn. “I see. Well, if you need me, I’ll be cooking lunch.”

Bryn gave him a smile and hoped that her relief wasn’t showing. “Okay. Thanks, Alfie,” she replied. Alfred left to go cook, leaving Bryn to close the door and lock it again. She exhaled in relief and said out loud, “Thank fucking god.”

Jerome walked out of the bathroom looking like he was similarly relieved. “That was close,” he sighed. 

“Yeah,” Bryn agreed. The two of them stood there for a few moments, getting over their shock in silence. 

“Well, I should probably get going then,” Jerome said. “Wouldn’t want to cause any more trouble.”

It took Bryn a few seconds to process what Jerome had just said. “It’s no trouble,” she lied. Jerome gave her a look that clearly said he didn’t buy it. She sighed and confessed, “Okay, fine, it’s a little trouble. But… look, if you need me, I’m here. Okay?” 

Jerome slowly started melting, his heart warming and his cheeks going red. He tried to reply, but didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Bryn understood. She smiled faintly and gently placed a hand on Jerome’s shoulder. He flinched away on instinct, but tried to hide it. “Thanks,” he finally managed to say.

“No problem,” Bryn replied. They stood there for a few seconds, Jerome faintly noting how Bryn’s eyes were barely a few shades away from being completely black. 

He cleared his throat and brushed off Bryn’s hand, a spike of guilt going through his chest as she looked back up at him with slightly pained eyes. “I should, uh, really get going, though,” Jerome muttered. He moved to go out the window.

Bryn calmly said, “Wait.” Jerome turned around. “You should go through the front door.”

“But Bruce and Jeremiah-”

“It’ll be fine. They should be cooped up in their lab, anyways.”

Jerome hesitated for a second. “Okay,” he replied. Bryn smiled gently and threw her book on the bed. She led the way and walked out of her room, Jerome following. 

While they walked to the front door Bryn pointed out random vases sitting on tables with no meaning and explained where they came from, the time period, their creators, etc. Jerome normally wouldn’t listen, since he wasn’t interested in those types of things, but Bryn seemed fascinated. She had a small gleam in her eye that Jerome couldn’t exactly explain; it was excitement, wonder, and keen knowledge at the same time, like that of an author talking about their latest novel to a fan or a director explaining certain elements of their movie to the actors. Jerome supposed this was what Bryn was like when she was excited; very into-it, fixating on that and that only, a gleam in her eyes, a faint smile, and excited hand gestures going along with her words. 

Jerome nearly felt bad for Bryn when they got to the front door, she was so into it. “Sorry I got a little… off track,” she said somewhat sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” Jerome replied. “You know a lot about that type of stuff, huh?”

Bryn shrugged. “There’s gotta be something I do in my free time. Not all of us can murder people whenever we’re bored.”

Jerome smirked. “Touché.” A slight pause passed between them. “I should be going, then.”

“See you,” Bryn replied. The two of them stood there for a second, Jerome not exactly wanting to leave, but knowing he should anyways.

“See you.” He offered Bryn a small, sincere smile and started walking out.

Bryn watched him go, semi-wondering if the vase by her door was from the Qin or the Shin dynasty. Just when Jerome was going to exit the door they heard something being dropped behind them. The two jumped and whipped around to see a shocked Miah and Bruce staring at them. A tablet laid on the floor right under Miah’s outstretched and shaking hands.As Bruce’s shock slowly became anger he growled, “What the fuck is happening here?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallo, I ignore canon very very much, have fun reading <3

Bryn knew that she wouldn’t be able to say anything to help her case, especially judging on the look on Bruce’s face. She forgot how unintimidating Bruce really was, but there were other matters to be focused on. “Jerome, go,” she said, shielding him with her body.

Jerome hesitated. “But-”

“Go!” Bryn yelled sharply. Her voice more gentle, more pleading, she asked, “Please.”

Bryn heard Jerome hesitantly leaving, then relaxed just a fraction as the door closed. She kept eye contact with Bruce at all times, rarely blinking. It was almost like trying to stare down a wolf- a very, very small wolf. Bruce snapped, “Why are you with him? Don’t you know what he’s done, who he is-”

But apparently something in Bryn decided she wasn’t having it. Something said that being silent wouldn’t get her anywhere, she had to speak. So she replied, her tone of voice clearly stating she was part of the argument, “Yes, Bruce, I know perfectly well who he is! If you haven’t noticed I’m the only one here who’s actually talked to him and shit!”

“What about what he did to Miah? Do you not care about that?” Bruce replied heatedly. It almost seemed like he’d planned what he was going to say before he came here. His argument probably came from the one he’d planned on using on Bryn after Jerome had stayed in the Manor for a week.

Bryn hesitated, carefully choosing her next words. “If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m not too sure that actually happened.”

“So you’re saying I lied to you?” Miah interjected. He didn’t look as mad at Bruce, but there was a bit of fury starting to sparkle in his bespectacled eyes. And something else, too… was he… worried?

The Wayne heiress sharply replied, the conversation clearly taking a different turn, “Jerome won’t even talk about you, Miah! Believe me, I’ve asked, and he won’t, he just…” Bryn moved her hands around wildly as she tried to find the right words. “Shuts down and won’t engage in conversation unless I change the topic!”

Bruce cut in, “So?”

“What do you mean, so?! Do you really think a murderer would refuse to talk about the person they killed?” Bruce didn’t respond; he knew Bryn was right, but he was too stubborn to admit it. Bryn sighed. “Just… give him a chance. Please?”

Miah replied quietly and shakenly, “Bryn, he hates me... He wants me dead, and he'll not stop until I am.”

Agitated Bryn growled, “Did you not hear anything I just said?”

"He tried to kill me when we were five!" Miah protested.

Bryn paused. “You said you were ten last time.”

Miah didn’t answer for a few seconds. Then he said, “H-he tried many times... I don't always remember which was which.”

"I’m talking about the first time,” Bryn replied coolly. “You said you were ten, didn’t you?"

A moment of hesitation. Bryn could almost see gears turning in Jeremiah’s head; they would overheat soon. Bryn just had to get them to. “I… I’m afraid that was a bit of a white lie… I didn’t want you to think of something like that happening to me at such a young age.”

“You’re lying,” Bryn snapped.

“Why would I lie about that?”

Bruce, catching on to what Bryn was doing, said, “Miah. Tell us the truth.”

The latter flinched. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” he replied nervously.

Bruce continued, glancing over at Bryn every once in a while, “You told us that the first time Jerome tried to kill you… you were six."

Hesitation. Again. Bryn was starting to get sick of it, sick of the small moments where lies were being formulated. “I... I said that? You must be mistaken…” Jeremiah said, his voice unsure and small.

“No, I vouch for that,” Bryn said, lifting her head up slightly and crossing her arms to make her seem more intimidating. 

It worked. Jeremiah seemed to get more nervous as he continued, words quickening by the second, “I-it’s possible I-I could have given y-you false information on accident, isn’t it? A-a-a slip of the memory, perhaps.”

Bryn snarled, “Oh, I’m pretty sure that you’ve been feeding us false information on purpose,  _ Jeremiah _ . So, I’ll ask you again. Tell. Us. The. Fucking. Truth.”

As a last attempt to have someone on his side Jeremiah said desperately, “Br-Bruce, y-you believe me, don’t you…?”

Bruce was silent.

Bryn growled angrily under her breath. “I’m getting tired of this.” She stormed over to Jeremiah and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in and flaring her eyes in anger. “Tell us the goddamn truth,” she snapped intimidatingly. “What actually happened?”

For a while Jeremiah was silent. He was frozen in shock, barely able to form words. Then, in the smallest voice Bryn had ever heard he said, “I’m sorry…”

If Bryn wasn’t absolutely furious she would feel sorry. Well, knowing that something was up, not really. “Apologize later. Story  _ now _ .”

Jeremiah explained how he lied about Jerome to get out of the circus, he just wanted a better life for himself, just needed to get out of there before anything happened to him. Bryn slowly let him out of her grip and watched him in disgust as he blathered on, trying to sweeten up what had happened, but Bryn knew better than that. She knew the truth and exactly the truth; Jeremiah lied to them. He lied to everyone, and he lied to his own fucking brother. How could he? How could anyone?

“You’re more of a monster than he is,” Bryn said in a hollow and furious tone. She turned to leave, then wheeled back around and walked right up to Jeremiah. He looked at her with confusion and fear that turned into agonizing pain as Bryn kneed him… down there. Jeremiah fell to his knees in pain, letting out a sharp yelp of agony, then had to throw his head back as Bryn kicked him in the face. Jeremiah felt his nose break and knew that blood was starting to run down his face, his glasses also broken and sitting on his nose in an odd and twisted way.

Just as Bryn was about to roundhouse kick Jeremiah in the head Bruce stopped her. “Bryn!” he called. She turned to look at him with such raw furious energy Bruce had to remind himself that she wasn’t mad at him. “That’s enough.”

Bryn was about to say something in protest, but she simply closed her mouth and stormed out of the room, cursing and swearing as she went.

A few moments of silence, where Bruce muttered under his breath and ran his hands through his hair, passed. “I need some air. I can’t breathe,” Bruce whispered, walking in Bryn’s footsteps. He felt Jeremiah move behind him, reaching for his hand. “Leave me alone!” he snapped, pulling away.

“Wait!” Jeremiah pleaded, his hand still outstretched from his attempt to grab Bruce’s hand. “I can explain.”

“Explain what?!” Bruce yelled back. “I thought I could trust you, but everything you’ve told us has been nothing but a lie. And this-,” he waved a hand between them, “-was this all a lie, too?!”

“No!” Jeremiah protested. “Bruce, I love you, this whole thing is just-,”

“A lie!” Bruce snapped, cutting Jeremiah off. The latter flinched; though Bruce only had half of his sister’s fury, he could be pretty scary, too. “You thought you could cover up the lie you told me?!” Bruce’s demeanor shrunk slightly, pain coming in behind anger. “The lie you told us?” With a cool anger Bruce continued, “In what world did you think this would end well?”

Jeremiah’s face said enough. He hadn’t planned for the truth to get out. “Bruce, I…”

“You were happy to live the lie. Happy to feed on our pity and let it benefit you.” Bruce’s voice was more monotone now, but spikes of anger still shot through the calm gray surface like thorns. He spun around on his heel and started walking away, evidently moving to leave. He looked behind him for a second. “Well, I hope your happiness was worth it.” With a few sharp footsteps Bruce was gone, and Jeremiah was left to clean up his broken nose and equally shattered glasses by himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Jesus Christ y'all thank you so much for 204 hits and 12 kudos!!! This means so much to me, hope you're liking this fic, have an awesome day :>


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your chapterly reminder that I ignore canon

Bryn was fuming. That was the only way to describe it, fuming and white-hot mad. She stormed into the kitchen and slammed the back door open, causing a pot to drop on the floor and shatter. Bryn couldn’t care any less as she continued to angrily stomp into the garden, cursing under her breath. She couldn’t fucking believe it; her best friend, her best friend since she was fucking 12, lied to her the entire seven years they had known each other. And he even lied to Bruce, his own goddamn boyfriend! What type of bitch would do that type of fucked-up shit to their own boyfriend?! 

The girl was so angry she didn’t even notice Jerome walking towards her until he was right in front of her. “Okay, okay, calm down,” he said, holding his hands out in a cautious manner. “What happened?”

“He fucking lied to us, that’s what!” Bryn snapped in response. 

Jerome blinked. “... who?”

“What do you mean, who?! Jeremiah fucking Valeska!” Bryn watched as shock passed over Jerome’s face, then a small hint of pain in his eyes. 

But he pushed it down. “Okay. Calm down.”

“Easy for you to say,” Bryn spat in response. Her temper was short, she hated the way she was speaking, but couldn’t stop the words from escaping her mouth like that. 

Jerome looked frustrated. Not at Bryn, but at himself. “I’m sorry… Is there anything I can do to help..?” he offered. He wasn’t hesitating because he didn't want to help Byrn, he just didn’t know what to do. But he was trying. 

Bryn sighed, running a hand through her hair. She was becoming a little bit calmer, but not by much. “I dunno,” she replied, sounding a bit frustrated with herself. 

The both of them paused, not knowing what else to say. Jerome wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. Usually when he was upset he tortured and/or killed a person or two, but that probably wouldn’t help Bryn very much. Nobody was ever there for him when he was upset or angry; he’d been alone his entire life. He knew close to nothing about this type of thing. He sometimes threw things and made an absolute mess in rage. But that wouldn’t help either. 

Well, breaking things and destroying places was a way to release pent-up anger. There had to be another option that had the same effect. Eventually Jerome thought of something. “You know, if I were you…” he started, unsure if he should finish the sentence.

Bryn raised her eyebrows. “Hm?” she asked. 

Jerome shrugged. “I mean, you could just, vent, ya know? Just.. yell everythin’ out.”

For a second Jerome thought that Bryn was going to roll her eyes and continue on in silence, but to his she shrugged. “I’ll give it a try, I guess.” She sighed and walked over to a marble bench, then sat down. Jerome decided to follow in her footsteps, sitting rather close to her, but hopefully not stepping over Bryn’s boundaries. He watched as Bryn took a few deep breaths in. 

Then the floodgates completely crashed down. It was very small at first, almost unnoticeable. Bryn started with a deathly calm tone, but gradually allowed more and more anger to slip into her voice until she was full-on yelłing. Jerome listened patiently, flinching every once in a while. He tried to stop himself from thinking of his mother and Zach, the same hateful and angry tone in their voices.  _ This is Bryn. This is Bryn. Not those bitches. Bryn, _ he thought to himself, repeating it like a mantra. 

Still, Jerome was grateful when Bryn sat back down. In her anger she’d gotten up to angrily pace and have more room to wave her arms around. She seemed considerably calmer; apparently the exercise had worked. Her voice a little scratchy and sore from screaming so much she said, “Sorry about how I was acting before. It’s just...” Bryn sighed. She combed a hand through her hair again. “It’s a little hard finding out you’ve been lied to nearly half of your life.”

“It’s okay,” Jerome replied. “Feeling better?” 

“Lots. Thanks,” Bryn replied. She looked over at Jerome and offered him a small, genuine smile. The latter froze for a few seconds in shock. A warm sort of feeling, soft and fuzzy, spread through his chest like a comfy blanket warming him on a cold winter day. “Anyways, may as well explain what’s happening now,” she sighed. 

Bryn took a deep breath in. Slowly, sometimes hesitating, she started to explain what had happened after Jerome had left. As she spoke some of her anger came back up from the surface, but Bryn tried to keep herself in check. But as she explained what happened Jerome felt anger of his own coming up. Now that he was out of his state of panic he realized he’d never seen Bryn so… flustered, so upset. Perhaps they hadn’t known each other long, but that didn’t matter. When someone who kept their composure and their calm as well as Bryn could get upset and flustered to the point where they snapped at everything they saw and had to resort to yelling and cursing and screaming to calm themselves down, something very serious had had to have happened. 

And this was definitely serious. How  _ fucking _ dare he? How dare Jeremiah manipulate Bryn and Bruce’s trust, take their friendship and twist it into what he wanted it to be? Telling their mother the lie was one thing. Continuing to tell it? Admittedly, it hurt a little, but it was mainly just disgusting to see. Jerome grumbled something under his breath pointed at Jeremiah but focused his attention back to Bryn. “Well, we should probably get you back inside,” he said.

Bryn looked up at Jerome with mild surprise on her face. She looked back down and shrugged. “Yeah, probably.” She stood up and waited for Jerome to do the same. “Thanks. For being here. ‘N’ helping.”

Jerome hesitated for a second, wondering if he’d actually helped or if Bryn was just being nice. “No problem.” He paused. “Do you… want me to go inside with you?” he asked.

A pause. Bryn sighed. “I mean, I don’t think anyone’ll have the nerve to try and get mad at me for bringing you in again after what happened… Sure.” 

The two of them walked back inside of the Manor, Jerome mentally noting to have a few words with his… little brother.

~-~

Inside Jeremiah threw away a blood-stained tissue from cleaning up his nose. He’d originally thought it was broken, but after some of the pain had subsided, it appeared Bryn had only given him a heavy nosebleed. Which was very lucky, since Bryn had close to no mercy once she got to that level of anger. He tried to fix his glasses, which were bent in many places, the lenses were cracked. They were more or less unusable, if he was being honest, but god be damned if he asked for them to be replaced. He’d done too much; he didn’t deserve that. 

Though maybe it was a mistake to stay in the room leading to the main entrance. To his surprise Bryn walked back in, and for a second he hoped it was to make amends, but color drained from his face as Jerome followed. Jeremiah quickly scrambled to stand and shoved his broken glasses back on. He thought he could escape before they saw him, but Jerome sharply gazed up at him and gave him a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Well, well, well… hello, brother,” he said with his ever-familiar leer. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Jeremiah demanded, though he sounded too panicked and scared for any demand to pass through as threatening. 

Jerome replied, “Well, I’m not particularly happy with your… how should I say it? Constant lying and manipulation.” His voice grew dangerously calm by the second, absolute fear racking through Jeremiah’s body quicker than his blood was being pumped.

“Jerome,” Bryn said sharply. She kept her gaze on Jeremiah, absolute hatred in her eyes, but placed a hand on Jerome’s shoulder. The latter flinched slightly, but did nothing else. “Leave him alone. He’s not worth it.” She gave Jeremiah a deadly glare and stormed off in the opposite direction. Jerome hesitated, but eventually followed her. 

The two of them walked in silence to Bryn’s room. Jerome mentally debated on putting an arm on Bryn’s shoulder to show his support, but he decided otherwise, not wanting to overwhelm her. Eventually they reached Bryn’s room, Jerome faintly wondering if Bruce was nearby. Bryn turned around to look at Jerome. She rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. Not because of Jerome; she seemed to just be… tired. “Thanks for being here,” she said. 

“If you need anything…” Jerome trailed off, but they both knew what he was going to say. ‘I’m here.’

“Thanks,” Bryn replied softly. She paused. “If you want you can… go through the front door again. Just don’t kill him.” 

Jerome shrugged. “I make no promises.”

Bryn gave him a small laugh and a smile. Jerome admitted, he kind of missed seeing her smile. “Thanks again. See you,” she said, still in the same quiet and mildly tired voice. 

“Bye,” Jerome replied. Bryn walked into her room and closed the door behind her. Jerome stood there for a few seconds, then headed to leave. He decided to go out the window, unsure if he could contain himself from hurting Jeremiah if he saw him again. 


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, in the bitter cold morning, Jeremiah sat in the dining room with his head in his hands and a cold cup of tea. He was- to put it lightly- not doing well. How could things have gone this wrong? Perhaps, yes, he’d never expected things to go as terribly as they did, but mainly... he was scared. Everyone was mad at him; Bruce, his own boyfriend, Bryn, the only friend he’d ever had besides Bruce, Jerome, the only person that could ever outrival Byn when it came to the tier of fear, even Alfred’s greeting “Master Jeremiah” was tense and disdainful. He oh-so badly wished that he could go to everyone and earn their forgiveness back somehow, but he had no idea how. 

The best course of action at the moment would probably be to let everyone calm down first. Jeremiah sighed heavily and finally took his head out of his hands, picking up his stone-cold tea and giving it a small sip. 

~-~

Bryn was in her room, trying to read a book in order to distract herself from what had happened, but her mind refused to leave the topic alone. She kept on going back to that moment, the moment that made her question everything since her parents had died. After  _ that  _ day Bryn found herself being a caretaker to her own brother, unable to talk about how she felt to anyone. When Bruce told Bryn that he’d made a friend at school, Bryn was more than elated. He’d never been a social person, never wanted any friends and ever tried to make any. Which was fine; Bryn was mostly the same. But she was glad that he would have someone else to talk to, someone else to share his genius and his skill. 

And Bryn was, finally, able to catch a break. She’d seen Jeremiah- the nerdy ginger with stunningly dark green eyes- prove time and time again that he cared about Bruce’s well-being as much as she did, and eventually became friends with him. They formed a bond over time through studying together generally being in the same room. Bryn relied on Jeremiah to be there for Bruce when she couldn’t be, and she trusted him to do so. But now it seemed like she really couldn’t trust him with… well, anything.

Bryn sighed and shook her head. She needed to get away from those thoughts for a while. Then she decided to check on her brother, who was probably just as hurt as she was. As Bryn left her room she mentally prayed she wouldn’t run into Jeremiah, the bitch. If she did… well, she probably would have killed him. 

~-~

Eventually Bryn found her brother aggressively punching a training dummy in the training room Alfred had set up for her when she was very young, and modified over the years. Bruce had pure rage written all over his face and, judging by his sweat-stained face and shirt, had been at it for a while. He barely noticed as Bryn walked in. The latter stood there for a few seconds, then shrugged, took off her jacket, and tied her elbow-length hair into a tight bun. Then she joined him, attacking a training dummy right next to Bruce’s, enjoying the ability to get her anger out. Jerome’s approach to dealing with anger was helpful, but it was temporary, and wouldn’t work all the time. 

After a few minutes Bruce, who was a bit tired, took a seat on the benches by the side. He wiped off sweat that was streaming down his face with the back of his hand and eventually spoke. “Hey,” he said. Bryn only gave him a hum in response. For a few more seconds he was silent, wondering what to say. “How are you?”

Bryn paused for a second, about to land another punch but stopping. “Question is, how are you?” she responded, continuing to beat the crap out of the dummy. 

“Bryn, no,” Bruce responded. He got a slightly judgemental and curious look from his sister. “You’re always trying to push your feelings off to the side and… you always ask me how I’m doing, but do you ever ask yourself how you’re doing?” 

He paused and sighed as he got no response. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about that.” Bruce then hesitated. He’d been wanting to ask about this for a little while, but he’d been putting it off. “... So about you and Jerome.”

Bryn groaned in frustration. Of course it would come back to this. “What about him?” she snapped in response. 

Bruce immediately knew that he had to back off; there was a fine barrier between how far you could or couldn’t push Bryn, and he was so close to it he could see the complexion of the stone. He decided not to respond, and thankfully Bryn let the question hang in the air. He simply sat on the sidelines and watched his sister release her frustration, knowing that was definitely the better route if he wanted to keep his life. 

Then Bruce saw a ginger head in the corner of his eye and questioned if it was Jeremiah. He felt his gut start twisting up nervously and turned to see if it was him, half wishing it was and half wishing it wasn’t. But he was not, in any way, shape, or form, expecting it to be Jerome Valeska. He shot up and got ready to attack, but stopped as Bryn called out, “Bruce!” 

She wiped a bit of sweat off of her forehead and rubbed her hand on her shirt. “Hiya, Bryn. Brucie,” Jerome greeted the twins. 

“Hi, Jerome,” Bryn replied. She sighed. “I’m gonna get water. You two play nice.” She gave them both a glance of warning and walked out of the room, a bit of fury still in her footsteps. 

The two of them watched as Bryn walked out of the room, shocked that she was leaving them alone in the same room. Maybe she was still out of it in her anger, or maybe she did it on purpose and trusted Jerome not to kill Bruce while she was gone. But either way she had left, and who knew when she was going to come back? 

At first Bruce and Jerome didn’t say anything to each other. Jerome stood awkwardly by the doorway, Bruce mentally debating on whether he should talk. He finally decided to; there were two sides to one story and Bruce wanted at least one. “So. You and Bryn,” he said, trying to hold the same command as Bryn could simply through her face, tone, and composure. 

Jerome, to Bruce’s surprise, went a little pink and seemed rather sheepish and shy for a bit. “What about her?” he replied, looking away. 

Bruce raised his eyebrows but continued. “How would you describe your relationship with her?”

Jerome shrugged. “Acquaintances,” he muttered, but it was half-hearted at best. 

“Mhm. Sure,” the Wayne twin replied, his voice making it evident he didn’t believe Jerome. “Tell me the truth.”

The Valeska raised his eyebrows. Bruce mentally cursed himself at his directness; anger really did not do him good. But he held his composure anyways, tried to keep an intimidating gleam in his eyes and his shoulders squared confidently. “Just ask your dear old sister,” Jerome replied, clearly not taking Bruce seriously. 

Bruce growled under his breath. “What, you think I haven’t?!” he snapped in response, a bit more anger coming out in his tone than he’d expected. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “She won’t answer,” he decided to mutter in response. 

There was no response from Jerome. He shifted awkwardly and was saved from answering as Bryn walked into the room with three glasses of water. “Oh, you’re both alive. Good,” she said, handing Jerome a glass. He seemed shocked for a second but eventually took the cup. Bryn walked over to Bruce and gave him a glass, too, then sat down and downed her water in three seconds. “You good, Jerome?” she asked, placing her empty cup beside her. 

“Just… checking on you,” Jerome replied. 

Bryn said, “I’m fine,” but she gripped the edge of the bench so tightly her knuckles were white. 

This went unnoticed by no one. Jerome put his untouched cup down next to Bryn’s and started walking out. “Where are you going?” Bruce asked, though it seemed more of a demand. 

“Oh, I’m just going to have a... talk with my ‘brother,’” Jerome replied, then left. 

Bruce stood to follow, but Bryn stopped him by blocking the entrance with her leg. “Bruce. Calm down,” she said.

“Calm down? What do you mean, calm down?! Who knows what he’s going to do?!” Bruce yelled in response. He really didn’t want to get into another fight, especially after yesterday, but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. 

His sister sighed. “I don’t think he’ll hurt anyone,” she replied calmly.

“You don’t know that,” Bruce snapped in response. 

“No. But I have a hunch.”

Bruce didn’t know what to respond for a few seconds. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, unable to piece together a good argument. Bryn knew this perfectly well, but if she wanted to stop the fight, she didn’t try. Maybe she was tired, maybe she didn’t care. But she just sat there with her leg blocking the exit, waiting. “How can you trust him?!” Bruce asked exasperatedly. 

Bryn sighed. “Look. I know what he’s done. I know why you’re mad he’s here. But he’s had chances to hurt every single one of us. And he didn’t.” She paused. Bruce hated how monotone, how calm her voice was. He wanted to argue, not knowing why, but he wanted to. But he wasn’t getting an argument; he was getting straight-up facts. 

“Why did you let him in the Manor?” he heatedly asked. They both knew he was referring to the first time.

Bryn paused. “Why did you let him stay?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t let me kick him out.”

A slightly disappointed look appeared in Bryn’s eyes. “I let him in because…” she hesitated, gears turning in her head. “For a moment, I didn’t see someone who’d killed dozens of people, who’d terrorized an entire city without a fraction of hesitation.” Another pause. “I saw a boy from the circus who needed help. Who had no other options besides a girl who he barely knew and had only met twice.” Slowly, Bruce sat back down next to Bryn, calming down slightly. She didn’t meet his gaze, but kept on looking forward at nothing. “I saw a boy who’d placed his trust in me because he had nobody else to put his trust in. And I… I couldn’t bring myself to push him away.”

Bruce examined his sister’s face as she spoke. He knew her like he knew his own mind, and knew that she’d given this a bit, but not much, thought. Bryn was speaking from the heart; he could see it. The way she spoke, the rare and gentle glint in her eyes… he hadn’t seen it in a while. 

But then he paused as a realization struck him. “Wait. How long has he been gone?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *claps* ignore *claps* canon

Jerome wandered through the Manor, looking for Jeremiah, the fucking bitch… he halfway wished there was a map of the Mano, the place was so big. Apparently Bryn was keeping Bruce back, or maybe they were just arguing so much that they were distracting themselves from the matter at hand. Either way he kept looking, and eventually found himself in the entrance of the dining room. Inside was just the man he was looking for. Jerome faintly cackled, which caused Jeremiah to jump out of his skin and scramble to stand. 

“W-what are you doing here?” Jeremiah demanded, but he sounded too afraid for Jerome to take him seriously.

The latter just gave him a smile, took out a gun from his pocket, and decided to sit down. He noticed a teacup on the table and took it for himself. “Come. Sit,” he commanded. Jeremiah hesitated, but reluctantly sat back down in his seat. Jerome’s smile grew wider as he took the teacup and swirled its cold brown contents around. “So,  _ brother _ … how are you?”

“We both know you’re not here to ask me,” Jeremiah cooly replied.

“Hm. True,” Jerome said, taking a short sip of tea. He made a face. “Urgh. Bitter, like you.” He put the cup down and continued, “So, what else are you lying to her about?”

Jeremiah pursed his lips. “Nothing,” he replied firmly. 

Jerome raised his eyebrows. “C’mon, don’t gimme that horseshit,” he said, his voice joking and lighthearted, but both of them knew he was being serious. 

“Why do you even care about her this much?” Jeremiah snapped.

He regretted this very, very quickly. Jerome, gun still in hand, raised it slightly. “Oh, and you don’t?”

Jeremiah quickly stumbled to pick himself back up. “No, that’s not what I-”

His voice faltered as Jerome pointed his gun back at Jeremiah. “You know what. I’ll make ya a deal.” His smile, in seconds, became twice as threatening and intimidating. A murderous gleam glowed showing in Jerome’s dark green eyes as he continued, “You hurt Bryn again, and I kill you myself. Deal?” Jerome cackled as the color in Jeremiah’s face drained instantly, and he walked away and back to the training room, hoping he could remember the path he took to get there

Once Jerome was gone Jeremiah, with his hands shaking, took off his glasses, wiped them off, and put his head in his hands. 

~-~

Bruce was just about to go out looking for Jerome again, infuriated that he’d let himself get distracted, when the clown walked back inside. “What did you do?” Bruce immediately snapped at Jerome.

“Just… spoke with my brother a bit,” the latter replied, his smile widening and clearly indicating something much more serious had happened. 

Bruce growled under his breath. “Tell me the truth, Valeska.” Jerome was silent besides a smile. “Fine. I’ll go check on him myself.”

On the side Bryn pursed her lips and started to dig her nails into her palm but said nothing as her brother left. “Traitor,” Jerome muttered towards Bruce. He looked over at Bryn, who sighed and crossed her arms. She looked mad and defeated at the same time. Jerome hesitated, then sat down next to her, filling in the spot that Bruce had once been in. He debated on patting her back or giving her a hug, but he didn’t in fear of what Bryn would do in response.

Bryn looked at Jerome, who was somewhat glaring at her shoulder, with his lips tightened and the space between his eyebrows crinkling in a frown. To say she was confused was an understatement. “You okay?” she asked.

Jerome froze for a second, then flushed and looked away, muttering something under his breath. “‘M fine,” he replied.

They both knew that this wasn’t true. “It’s okay. What’s up?” Bryn asked. She smiled faintly, trying to create a comfortable atmosphere. 

Jerome, going a deep red, muttered something incoherent under his breath. Seeing the confused look on Bryn’s face he muttered a little more loudly, “‘S it okay if I… pat your shoulder?”

He cringed at himself, the way he spoke so smally and so weakly, but he relaxed as Bryn simply replied, “Sure.” She didn’t laugh, she didn’t think it was hilarious that he had to ask, she just… smiled. And accepted. 

Jerome looked at her somewhat curiously. He wasn’t entirely expecting that answer, to be honest. He cleared his throat and somewhat awkwardly patted Bryn’s shoulder, hesitating to let go for a second, but forcing himself to. Bryn leaned back and handed Jerome his water again, the latter muttering a thanks before taking a sip. Though he couldn’t help but smile faintly at the little grin that was on Bryn’s face. She’d been so angry recently; it was nice to see her smile again.

But their peace didn’t last long. Bruce stormed back into the room at that moment and immediately demanded, “What did you say to Jeremiah?”

Jerome gave him a strange look. “That I’d kill him if he hurts Bryn again,” he replied.

Bryn was slightly shocked at this statement, but looked almost… endeared at the same time. Bruce ignored this and growled, “I don’t believe you. Tell me the fucking truth.”

Slightly annoyed Jerome snapped back, “I am.”

Clearly knowing a fight was going to start if she didn’t do something Bryn stood up and got between the two. “Okay, calm down,” she said, holding her arms out with her palms facing out and towards either Bruce or Jerome. “Look, I know you’re both high on guard, and neither of you two trust each other, but can we please not start another fight?” Bryn’s face fell for a second, her tiredness showing. “Don’t think I got any more fucks to give today.”

Bruce backed off, but Jerome could tell he was shocked that Bryn wasn’t taking his side. Bruce just left the room, closing the door behind him. Bryn dropped her arms and curled her hands into fists, but sat back down. Her attitude was definitely more agitated now, but she seemed tired, too. She stole Bruce’s water cup and angrily downed its contents, muttering something under her breath and then sighing. Jerome looked at her with slight confusion, but as Bryn glanced his direction, he tried to slap on a smile. “You good?” she asked.

Jerome hastily replied, “I’m fine,” but they could both tell he was lying.

That day Bryn decided not to push. She sighed and leaned her head back. “You wanna stay for lunch?”

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t wanna start another fight.” Jerome hesitated, but moved to leave. “Good talking with you.”

He started walking out the door when Bryn stopped him. “Hey.” Jerome turned back. “Thanks for checking up on me.” 

Jerome gave Bryn a small smile in response and left. 


	13. Chapter 13

The next day Bryn found herself looking for a cookbook in the library for Alfred. She was trying not to think of Jeremiah, of Bruce, but she wasn’t exactly doing well in that goal. Running her fingers over the spines of both old and new books, Bryn sighed. After her anger had faded out she was left with a sad coldness instead, fire burning out to a winter storm. Bryn supposed she was starting to come to terms with the fact that Jeremiah, her only friend outside of her family, really had lied to her the entire time they’d known each other. She wished she could talk to someone, but she refused to talk to Jeremiah for obvious reasons, Bruce refused to talk to her, and Alfred was so against Jerome that Bryn didn’t think she had had it in her to talk with him. 

Bryn faintly noticed Jerome walking inside the room. She was starting to learn how he sounded when he walked, his steps usually combined with a skip or some sort of little hop. “Nice how you can just walk inside the Manor now,” Bryn offhandedly commented, hoping the fact that she was joking came through. 

Jerome appeared next to Bryn a few seconds after that. He had his usual smile slapped on his face. “I mean, I do have permission. How you doing?”

“Do you plan on coming in every day and asking me how I’m doing?”

The clown shrugged. “Basically, yeah.”

Bryn smiled faintly. “It’d probably be better if you just called. So you don’t have to come in every day.” She patted her pockets for a moment, took out a scrap piece of paper, a pen, and started writing on top of a book. Then she gave the paper to Jerome, who was shocked and confused, but took it. Bryn watched as Jerome’s facial expressions went from enthusiastic to blank, but a small glint in his eyes proved otherwise. 

He carefully folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “So, how are you?”

Bryn shrugged, a cold chill running through her body, but it wasn’t because it was cold. “Fine. Just can’t find this book…” 

“Ya want help?”

The Wayne heiress looked back at Jerome. She raised her eyebrows, but then said, “It’s about, I dunno, seventy years old. Hardcover, leather bound… says ‘Wayne Family Cookbook’ on it.”

Jerome snorted. “What a name.”

“Thanks. My ancestors chose it.”

The two split up, Bryn staying in her area, Jerome heading to the other side of the library. They were mainly silent, neither knowing what to say. The silence was oddly comforting, though. Maybe it was the presence of another human being. Eventually Jerome, while looking at the spines of a load of books that seemed to be centuries old, stopped. His finger hovered over the brown spine of a book that said, in fading black letters, “Wayne Family Cookbook.” He took the book out of the shelf and opened it. It sure seemed old, what with its yellowing and fragile pages. “Think I got it,” Jerome called over to Bryn.

Bryn went to him quickly, but there was a split second where Jerome noticed the heavy bags under her eyes. _She hadn’t slept,_ he thought, slightly concerned. Bryn looked over at the book and said, “That’s it.” Taking it from Jerome she continued, “Thanks for the help.”

“Whatcha gonna do with it?” Jerome asked. 

Bryn replied, “Alfred was looking for it. Decided to give him some help.” She paused and asked, “Do you… want to stay for lunch?”

Jerome shook his head. “Probably better if I don’t. Your brother, and all.”

He’d hit a nerve, he could see it in Bryn’s sudden change of facial expressions. Her face melancholy, she replied, “I mean, Bruce and Miah and I barely see each other any more… I think you’d be safe.”

Jerome frowned. “What’s Bruce up to these days?”

Bryn shrugged. “Dunno. But… I feel like he… might be with Jeremiah.”

“Fucking bitches,” Jerome muttered. 

Bryn shrugged again. “I better get this back to Alfred. Thanks again.”

“No problem.” The two of them sat here for a second, waiting for someone to break the silence. “I should be going,” Jerome said. Bryn nodded to him and walked out of the room, leaving Jerome alone with himself.

He mentally noted that Bryn was acting a little off. She was more dejected than usual, never smiling once or having any of her usual wit. Her voice was small and sad, and honestly, she looked terrible. Jerome wanted to go back and stay with Bryn, to show her he was there, but he didn’t want to piss her off or make her feel overwhelmed. He felt slightly guilty, too; all of this was caused by him… The clown ran a hand through his hair, confused on what he should do. He then noticed something odd in his back pocket and took it out. 

Jerome saw the note again, with Bryn’s number scrawled on it. If numbers could be in cursive, this was it. He felt strangely happy, like a balloon of joy filling up inside of him out of nowhere. After a few moments of hesitation Jerome walked out of the library. But then he stopped, and started to head back up. 

~-~

After Bryn had given Alfred the cookbook she headed into her bedroom and flopped down on the bed. She sighed and for a few seconds started thinking about, to put it lightly, her… situation again, but she noticed a small piece of paper that was on her normally spotless floor. Figuring a distraction would be nice, Bryn went to pick it up. She flipped it over to see incredibly messy handwriting in black ink, which she recognized as Jerome’s, from the note on her watch. “What do Europeans call a Karen? An American.” Bryn laughed a bit, thankful for the joke. She folded the note and put it in the same drawer as the note attached to her watch, then sat down at her desk and put her head on the table. Though Bryn was still slightly dejected and tired, she was thankful for the attempt.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Claps hands in I ignore canon*

The next day Jerome found himself sitting in his “home,” which was really just an abandoned warehouse, with a phone he’d taken from a sniveling asshole yelling at his girlfriend for no reason in his hands. He’d already figured out how to make Bryn one of his contacts, and was currently on the verge of texting her. But he hesitated. Jerome didn’t exactly know why he was so nervous, so hesitant, but he was. Eventually, after a lot of self conflict, Jerome sucked in a breath, gathered up his courage, and sent a “hello” text.

~-~

In her room, promptly ignoring the world, Bryn scrolled through the news app on her phone (a few murders here and there, but hey, what else is new) when she got a text from an unknown number saying, “hello”. Immediately Bryn was on the defense, but she remembered giving Jerome her number a few hours ago. For a second she questioned why she gave him his number, but decided to let it be. She answered the text with a, “Who is this?” Just to be sure. 

~-~

Jerome got a text almost immediately after. He was slightly hurt that Bryn was asking who he was; did she forget? He just said, “its jerome” and waited. Then Bryn replied, “Sorry lol, just had to make sure it was you and not some rando.”

Sounded like Bryn. Jerome said, “gotchu. anyway how u doin”

“Okay, just looking through the news”

Jerome wanted to ask about Jeremiah was up to, but he paused. He didn't want to upset Bryn any further. He decided to ask how things were going instead. Bryn replied, "Okay. Mainly watching movies and shit"

"sounds like a good thing?"

Bryn typed for a few seconds, but didn't send her message. Then she said, "Idk... Ngl I kinda miss talking with you know who but I sure as hell ain't going to talk to them :/" 

Jerome frowned slightly. "why? u dont have to answer if you dont want to tho" 

"It's fine. I mean I don't want them to think they can just like", Bryn sent, then continued, "Lie and just be forgiven, ya know"

Jerome replied, "true". He paused and then asked, "whatcha doin today"

"Probably just rewatching a bunch of movies or something. You?"

Jerome was slightly shocked at the question but he replied, "idk"

After a few moments of silence Bryn said, "Gtg, cya"

"bye", Jerome sent back. He smiled faintly at the thought of talking with Bryn again, feeling a rush of adrenaline surge through him out of nowhere. Jerome shook himself out of it, dazed for a few seconds. 

~-~

Bryn sent a final good-bye to Jerome and roughly shoved her phone in her inner trench coat pocket as Bruce opened her door. Bryn dryly said, "You should have at least knocked.

"Sorry," Bruce replied, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Bryn huffed and snapped, "What do you want?"

Bruce recoiled, but stayed standing in Bryn's doorway. "I just wanted to talk." After silence from Bryn he continued, "Jeremiah and I just-"

"Oh, so you're with him," his sister replied. Her voice was drier than dry, it burned with rage and had no mercy. "What fucking side are you on, Bruce?"

"Nobody's!" Bruce protested. "Bryn, we're a family, we don't take sides!"

He was about to continue, but Bryn slowly stood up from her bed and started walking towards Bruce. He'd never seen such an intense glare on his sister's face; on instinct he slowly started backing out of the doorway, feeling like a deer about to be pounced on by a lioness. Bruce didn't even notice the fact that he'd left Bryn's room until she growled, "It sure seems like you have," and then slammed the door in his face. She then stormed over to her desk, muttering an incoherent stream of curses under her breath and running her hands, which were shaking with fury, through her hair. A buzz came from Bryn's phone, so she opened it, but it was a text from Bruce. She growled and decided to block both Bruce and Jeremiah's numbers. But something in her- the hesitant, planning side- said not to. What if there was an emergency?

Bryn sighed and just muted the text channels between her and Bruce instead. Then she slammed her phone down and placed her head in her hands. "Fuck."

~-~

Bruce, still in front of Bryn’s door, sighed and put his phone away. For a second or two he looked back at Bryn’s door, mentally debating on knocking again, but knew that Bryn would probably knock his teeth out if he did. He left and went into his own room, which was only a few rooms away from Bryn’s. Once inside he sat down at his own desk and thought about talking with Jeremiah again; he hadn’t since he told him that Jerome made a death threat at him. He still felt betrayed, but slowly started understanding Jeremiah’s reasoning; he was in a terrible home, and besides, Jerome would have hurt him anyways. 

Bryn would kill him, he knew that very well. But she wasn't being very fair, honestly, and eventually she would come to the truth. So, Bruce gathered himself up. and started heading over to Jeremiah's room. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whooo, sorry it's been so long guys, I just got really busy with some other fanfics I've been writing and was kinda taking a break from this  
> It may be a little while before I update this again, though, so maybe check out some other stuff I've written while you wait! Anyways, have fun :)  
> Also, I didn't proof this chapter, so...  
> Reminder: I ignore canon or I don't give a shit about what happens in canon

Jeremiah started his day off by sitting in his room, tinkering around with a mini generator he wasn’t really focusing on. He would normally be doing this in the lab, but honestly, the generator was nearly finished and he wasn’t sure if going out was the best thing to do at the moment. Then, out of nowhere, someone knocked on his door. He looked back at it, confused and slightly excited. Of course he knew it wasn’t Bryn; she’d rather tear his heart out than see him. Could it be Bruce..? Or maybe Alfred, coming to check on him. Either way, Jeremiah went to open his door. To his delight, it  _ was _ Bruce, who had a hard and blank expression on his face. 

“Bruce…” Jeremiah whispered, pleasantly shocked. 

Before he could continue, Bruce cut him off, holding up a hand to stop him. “Jeremiah, look. I’m going to be honest, and I expect you to take it. I don’t think that what you did was right.” Jeremiah deflated slightly; did Bruce just come to lecture him? Well, he deserved it, but still. “It was… sick, and it was fucking wrong, and I would never imagine anyone being able to do that. But-” the ginger straightened his back slightly, a little hopeful. “... I understand why you did it. As much as I don’t like it, I understand the reasoning behind what you did, and… I’m willing to give you another chance.”

Jeremiah swallowed down a lump forming in his throat he didn’t even notice before. A heat pricking behind his glasses-framed eyes as he croaked out, “Thank you.” There were a few seconds of silence between them, which were slightly awkward, as Jeremiah had to take his glasses off and wipe his eyes. 

Bruce sighed. He got closer to his boyfriend and put his head on the latter’s back, pulling him in for a hug. “Shh… it’s okay…” he whispered, smiling faintly as Jeremiah hugged him back. It felt good to be this close to someone again, he had to be honest. But the two’s moment didn’t last long as something heavy dropped behind them. Bruce and Jeremiah jumped apart and looked at Bryn, who was standing there with wide eyes, her hands outstretched, and a book on the floor. 

~-~

Bryn started her day off by leaving her room to go back to the library with Alfred’s cookbook, mentally making a note of where it was. For a split second she was reminded of Jerome’s offer to help, and she smiled. But that stopped when she saw Jeremiah and Bruce hugging. A feeling of betrayal shot through Bryn, and she dropped her book in shock. 

Noticing her presence, Bruce and Jeremiah jumped apart. “Bryn…” her brother whispered, moving to console her, but Bryn scooped up her book and stormed away with tears starting to form in her eyes. By the time Bruce and Jeremiah went into the hallway Bryn was gone, disappearing around the corner. “Bryn!” Bruce called out.

Nothing. He and Jeremiah called out Bryn’s name a few times, but it was clear that she was gone and not planning on coming back anytime soon. “Shit,” Bruce swore.

Jeremiah placed a hand on the latter’s shoulder. “It’s okay, love.”

“No, it’s not,” Bruce snapped back. He instantly felt guilt rippling through his gut as Jeremiah recoiled. “I’m sorry, Jeremiah. It’s just…”

He trailed off. “I know,” was the only response Jeremiah could think of. Bruce gave him a small smile. “We can look for her.”

Bruce hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. So, where do we start?”

~-~

Bryn shut herself in her room, panting against the door for a second. She slid down, her knees to her chest and her ass on the floor. Thinking twice, Bryn fumbled to lock her door, which took much longer than it should have. She felt like burying her head in her arms and staying there forever, but Bryn knew that wouldn’t do her any good. Eventually the girl stood up, smoothing her faux leather jacket, and taking in a few breaths to calm herself. 

She then walked into her closet and looked at a dresser, then pulled it from the right hand corner. It opened easily, and in it led a staircase. Bryn walked inside, ducking her head, and closed the dresser-shaped “door” behind her. She stood up and walked up the staircase, which was a small flight. Eventually Bryn found herself in front of another door, which looked normal from the outside. She opened it and walked inside.

There was a desk in the corner of the small-ish room with a small lamp sitting on top of it as well as a Mason jar with pencils, a ruler, and pens in it. Underneath the desk was a waste bin and a set of plastic drawers, a spinning chair right by it. There was also a music sheet stand, which looked worn and well-used, sitting in the opposite corner, a few music sheet books already on it. By its base was a violin case, also worn and old. There was also a cork board on the right hand wall, which was empty at the moment, but was likely used for trying to figure out who dunnit, and a bookshelf in the right hand corner closest to Bryn, which mainly had photo frames of her family on it.

Her eyes lingered on a framed picture of her, Bruce, and Jeremiah. Bryn was in the middle, her arms around both boys, and the lot of them were wearing wide smiles. They’d just graduated high school in that picture; Alfred proudly took it, and gave a copy to each of them. She sighed and closed the door behind her, which was apparently another secret entrance hidden as a bookshelf, then walked over to the other bookshelf. Bryn picked the picture up, treating it carefully despite glancing at it with much venom. She then placed it face down. She didn’t need a reminder of them, not now.

Bryn sighed again and walked to her desk, sitting down. Once there she put her head in her hands, elbows leaning on the table. She muttered curse words pointed at Bruce and Jeremiah under her breath. Bryn should have known they were together; why else would Bruce avoid her as much as he did? The girl wished she could talk to someone, but that wasn’t exactly an option at the moment. Then she paused as her mind lingered on the idea of texting Jerome. “No… he wouldn’t even want to listen…” Bryn muttered under her breath. “Besides, we’re not even that close.” With a sigh Bryn counter-argued, “But it would be nice having someone to vent to…” For a few seconds Bryn paused. “God fucking dammit,” she muttered, taking out her phone and bringing up her and Jerome’s recent messages. 

~-~

Jerome was looking through the phone that he’d stolen- you never know what type of shit people hide on their phones- when he got a text from Bryn, which just said “hey.” He perked up at that, very excited all of a sudden. He greeted Bryn with a “sup” in response. “u good?” he then asked. 

“Eh” was Bryn’s reply. Then she paused. “Can I vent for a bit?”

Oh, no. “what happened” Jerome asked, concern rippling across his face. He thought it was a little odd that Bryn was asking him a favor instead of the other way around, which was usually how it went. Then he thought about how she radiated such a confident and powerful attitude, she made it seem like she didn’t need anybody for help. After all, it always seemed like Jerome was the one asking for help, something he felt slightly bad about. 

Bryn took Jerome's response as a “yes.” She then started typing out her response, but it was hard. In her feeling of utter betrayal she couldn’t piece together what she was feeling, couldn’t explain it in words. Bryn kept on erasing her message and retyping, erasing and retyping, unsure what to say. She finally said, “Idk how to explain it…”

Jerome raised his eyebrows. “baby steps, bryn, baby steps” was the only thing he could think of saying.

Bryn wasn’t sure how, but that helped. She inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm herself down. “I think Jer and Bruce have been together the entire time”

“wtf???” Jerome replied in a fury. He saw it coming, he wasn’t going to lie, but it was still a shock.

“I’m not sure tho, but I saw ‘em hugging and… idk. I feel like I just saw my best friend kick a puppy :/” Bryn said.

Jerome forced himself to ignore the blood starting to pound in his ears, and focused on Bryn. She needed him right now; anger wouldn’t be helpful. “sorry bryn :<” he replied. Then, pausing, he asked, “u wanna meet up irl? might help a lil”

To his surprise, Bryn texted back, “... That actually might work. Sure. Alleyway?”

It didn’t take a genius to know she was talking about the one right outside Wayne Manor, where Jerome had taken to meeting Bryn in. “sure” he replied. “see u in a few?”

“See you in a few” Bryn texted in response. Jerome smiled faintly, then turned the phone off and started heading out. 

Bryn paused. What did she agree to? Well, there was no going back now. She stood up, slightly dazed, and started walking out of the attic. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminder; I ignore canon

Bryn pushed the secret door in her closet open, then quietly closed it behind her. She listened in to see if Jeremiah and Bruce were in her room- or around, even- or not. She assumed they weren’t, since it was so quiet, so she left her closet and climbed out of the window. Bryn continued to climb down the wall of the Manor, not wanting to risk going through the door and out through the front. Alfred liked to tease that she was a lizard of some sort, because of the way she climbed up and down walls so naturally. Bryn left the Manor behind and started to walk to the alleyway, which wasn’t a very long trip. Though, it took a bit longer to get there since she walked a little more slowly than usual.

~-~

While Jerome walked to the alleyway he went along the rooftops, which he hoped would be a faster way to get there. He was worried about Bryn; seemed to be so... distressed lately. The only time he’d ever seen her at a loss for words was the first day after she’d found out Jeremiah had lied to… well, everyone. He wished that he could make her feel better, but wasn’t sure how. Jerome was worried that he wouldn’t be able to console Bryn, and he started feeling slightly panicked at the thought. For the moment Jerome shoved that down; Bryn had asked him to help, and goddammit, he was going to try.

Jerome sighed and swore at himself. He wasn’t sure when, but somehow Bryn had managed to get under the walls he’d built years ago. It was infuriating, to say the least, that it had somehow happened in… what, half a month? Jerome didn’t even notice until that moment… A part of him wanted to push Bryn away, wanted to pretend she meant nothing to him. But the other half of him- the seemingly invisible logical side- just laughed. 

That was all Jerome did, wasn’t it? Laugh. 

~-~

Jerome got to the alleyway just a few seconds before Bryn did. “Hey,” the Wayne heiress greeted, her voice still somewhat feeble. 

“Are you okay? I’m gonna fucking kill those two,” Jerome growled.

Bryn shrugged and kicked a rock on the ground. “I dunno how to explain this, honestly… what I’m feelin’ and shit, you know, I just…” Bryn paused, unsure what to say. “... nobody else is really there. It’d just… be nice having someone to talk to.” 

Neither of them said anything after that, not knowing what to say. Jerome noticed that Bryn seemed to be more relaxed, like just being with someone was calming. He decided to wait for her to say something, not wanting to push her. She leaned against a wall and sighed, saying, “I just… wish Jeremiah had told us the truth before now. Like, just… told us without being prompted, ya know?” Then she sighed again. “‘M sorry, ‘Romey. For what he… did to you.”

Jerome frowned slightly, thought was more in confusion than in anger. “‘Romey?”

“... Sorry. I like giving people nicknames.

Jerome shrugged. “I like it. It’s better than Jerry.” He paused for a second, unsure what to say. “... And it’s fine.”

Bryn looked up at him, knowing fully well it wasn’t. “You sure?” she asked, placing a hand on Jerome’s shoulder. He flinched heavily, and Bryn almost took her hand off. “Sorry,” she quickly added, removing her hand. 

The latter froze. He’d never heard someone apologize to him for something as small as that before. “It’s okay,” he replied quietly. Jerome sucked in a breath, regaining his composure. It was a little hard to do, but modelling after Bryn made it a little easier. 

Speaking of Bryn, she suddenly turned with her hand covering the bottom half of her face. Jerome paused, noticing the wet tears forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. 

“Hey, it’s… it’s okay,” Jerome said, unsure what to do. He hesitated, then moved to place his hand on Bryn’s shoulder. She looked back at him with a slightly surprised and unsure glance. The both of them were scared, hesitant, unsure. 

Looking back, Jerome wasn’t sure why he did it. Something in his gut just… told him to. He pulled Bryn in- gently as he could- for a hug. He wanted to make sure she didn’t feel trapped or like she was doing things against her will. If Bryn had any reservations about what was happening, she didn’t say anything, and allowed Jerome to pull her into a small hug. At first he started to panic, heart beating rapidly and a cold chill running through his body, but stopped as he felt Bryn’s heartbeat. It was… slow and calming, and it started to pound against his chest. He froze again, not sure what to do, and slowly placed his chin on Bryn’s shoulder and loosely wrapped his arms around her torso. Soon he melted into the touch and found himself becoming more relaxed and comfortable than he’d been in his entire life. 

They stayed like that for a little while, both needed the hug more than they would confess. They instantly started feeling a bit better about everything. Jerome wished that they could stay that way, but was afraid that Bryn would think of him as odd, so he broke away first. After he did, he cleared his throat and looked at the floor, trying and failing to control the slowly growing blush on his face. Bryn smiled faintly, remembering the look Jerome had the first time he’d woken up after coming to the Manor, and recognizing it as being similar to the one he had on now. 

“Thanks for meeting with me. I know it was on short notice and all, and…” Bryn ran a hand through her hair again. “Thanks. But I should probably get back inside soon; it’s getting dark.” 

Jerome shrugged, looking like he didn’t care, but they both knew he did. “It’s no problem.” He was slightly relieved at the excuse to keep talking, though, instead of there just being silence. 

Bryn laughed a little; Jerome was glad to hear it. “Night, ‘Romey,” she said, her voice still quiet and feeble, but she at least sounded a little stronger. 

“Night.” Jerome watched Bryn leave, but put his hand over his heart as soon as she’d disappeared around the corner. Why was his heart beating so hard? And his chest… it felt like it was burning and somehow warm at the same time. But Jerome shook it off, dazed for a second, and decided to climb on the rooftop again. 

Jerome moved to leave, but he paused. After traveling for a minute or two, he was looking over Wayne Manor. He watched as Bryn stepped inside the gate and closed it behind her. She looked back, almost knowing someone was watching, but gave it little to no thought and continued going inside. Jerome, intrigued, watched Bryn started climbing up the side of the Manor. She was skilled, and had done this many times; he could tell. She knew exactly what to grab into, how much strength she needed to pull herself up. Eventually Bryn jumped inside of a window, presumably her own. Jerome faintly smiled, and then started walking away. 


End file.
